Category Archives: Writing

A Message to a Specific Unknown Reader

16 Monday Dec 2019

Posted by in Cici, Self-publishing

≈ 10 Comments

Thank you so much to the 31 people who purchased A Precarious Magic, and to the one person who bought a paperback!

As it happens, Dear Paperback Reader, you’re probably going to see the paperback edition before I do. Author copies get delivered remarkably slowly unless you’re willing to pay for expedited shipping, which I was not. But I also didn’t want to wait through the proof copy routine, because again, that takes a while. The proof copy is when Amazon prints a single copy of the title with a gray bar across the front & sends it to the author for review, before letting the paperback go live. Technically, you have to approve the proof copy before you can release the paperback.

I skipped that step, though, because I’m planning to send paperbacks to a couple of people (the ones mentioned in the dedication) and I was hoping I could get them out by Christmas. I decided to wait to send them, however just in case something was wrong with my files. I did not anticipate that someone else would buy a paperback first. I do hope the back cover turned out as nicely as I think it did.

So yes, you, Dear Paperback Reader, will be the first person to find out how the print edition looks and whether it’s all okay. I hope that knowledge is fun for you. 🙂 I also hope it does all turn out okay, but if it has any problems, do let me know and I’ll replace your copy if necessary.

In other news, I’m still working on Cici 2. I’m well aware that this is a stupid financial decision and I’m trying not to let that knowledge affect my outlook on life. But I had a long and lovely conversation with my friend Suzanne yesterday and she assures me that pet sitters can earn $40/day in Arcata, so there we go — future career assured. I will be an excellent pet sitter.

Meanwhile, a snippet:

The flunkey led Cici through the glittering foyer, past a luxurious reception room with thick carpeting and delicate chairs, and into an elegant office. The walls were paneled with blue Arguvian hardwood, with a floor made of the same wood inlaid with lighter blue patterns. Shelves against two walls held a selection of intriguing artifacts as well as traditional paper-bound books. In the center of the room, a large desk beautifully carved of more Arguvian hardwood held a comm terminal. 

Cici did not roll her eyes. 

Through still gritted teeth, she said to the flunkey, “Not here. Take me someplace less…” She cast an eye around the room. “…flammable.” 

The flunkey swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.” 

He led her back to the elevator. In silence, the two of them descended another two levels. This time, the elevator doors opened into a nondescript corridor, with doors leading off on both sides. Most of the doors were open and the corridor bustled with energy, beings moving, voices calling. 

Cici caught snatches of conversation as they passed along the corridor. 

“After the last time, there’s no way…” 

“Are you watching the news? They’re saying…” 

“Maybe we’ll finally get that upgrade to the…” 

“She’ll want to review the progress on the weather station. Do you have those reports…” 

“Twenty credits says she fires the Planetary Administrator.” 

“Fifty credits says she sets fire to the Planetary Administrator.” 

The last comment was said with a laugh, but Cici felt herself flushing. 

How had the news of her loss of control spread so quickly? Had Asuke started talking about her brush with near death by dragon fire the very second they’d separated? 

Cici glanced in the open door to see the speaker, feet up on his desk, leaning back in his chair. With a tiny spurt of magic — the merest smidgen of it — Cici pushed his chair away from his desk, almost out from under him. He yelped and scrambled to recover as she continued down the hallway. 

She felt a little guilty. That had been petty of her. Better than flaming him would have been, of course, but still… She shouldn’t take her temper out on hirelings. Even hirelings who were making fun of her. 

Although, she thought, feeling more cheerful, Randall would have done much worse. And her mother would have eviscerated the man with a single tilt of an eyebrow. Honestly, that guy ought to be grateful she’d been so restrained. Why, she’d practically been nice. 

Almost nice, anyway. 

Well, maybe not quite nice. But close enough. 

*****

Happy Monday!

Release Day for A Precarious Magic

11 Wednesday Dec 2019

Posted by in A Precarious Magic, Self-publishing, Writing

≈ 10 Comments

It’s official: A Precarious Magic is loose in the world.

I even finished uploading the paperback covers this morning. I had a serious mental debate about those — did it actually make sense to spend money to make the back covers of those books pretty? Since it’s only really sold online, no one sees the back cover before buying the book and I could have made my own back cover using Amazon’s cover creator. Spending money for a pretty back cover is just… well, it’s just what I did. Quixotic? Is that the word I was looking for?

Today is the 8th anniversary of the release day of A Gift of Ghosts, which inspired me to go back and read my blog from December of 2011. I have my memories of where I was at and how I was feeling, of course, but I wanted to know how they matched up with what I wrote back then.

It was unexpectedly grueling, although it shouldn’t have been. Unexpected, that is, not grueling. The grueling part should have been obvious: it was a hard time in my life, and re-reading my words brought those emotions right back to me. It was my first Christmas without my mom — she died of pancreatic cancer in five brutal weeks that summer — and my best friend was dying. I lost her in February 2012. I’d quit my job to go to grad school, so had also lost the structure, community and connection of 9-5 work, and was within five months of dropping out of school. My anxiety was sky-high — I can see it in the energy of every word I wrote.

But this is my single favorite part of my words from December 2011:

I’d love to make lots of money from my writing and be really successful, but that’s not why I started writing and that’s not why I want to continue writing. A Gift of Ghosts is out in the universe now and I need to let it go and let it find its own way and let the process work. Because I didn’t publish it to reach it a goal. I published it because I thought it was fun, and I wanted other people to have fun with me.

And that’s why I’m writing: for fun, and so that other people will have fun with me.  

Over the past eight years, my life has changed dramatically, and the publishing world has changed pretty dramatically, too. But that goal was always the right goal for me — to have fun, and to hope that other people would have fun with me.

I hope you find Fen’s continuing adventures as fun as I did!

Book cover of A Precarious Magic

Deciding on the name

18 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by in A Precarious Magic

≈ 10 Comments

Turned out it was Write a Book Description day.

Book cover of A Precarious Magic

For millennia, the Sia Mara hid from humanity in magical underwater refuges. They used to have seven: now they have six.

What happened to Wai Pa? 

For Fen, an orphan from the surface world and the only known survivor of the fallen refuge, the answer could mean life or death. After an unprecedented series of events, she now represents her city on the Sia Maran Great Council. But she also knows a secret — that when her mother was dying, she claimed the Val Kyr were responsible for the disaster that struck Wai Pa. 

When Gaelith — gifted healer, powerful mage, anticipated future queen of Syl Var, and Fen’s friend — disappears, Fen is quick to suspect the Val Kyr. Have they kidnapped Gaelith? Do they still want to murder Fen herself? Are they planning to destroy this city, too? 

And what can she do to stop them? 

******

Does it make sense? The city names feel confusing to me, but it’s book 2, I doubt anyone’s going to be reading it who hasn’t read the first one.

And does it sound fun? The book itself is 95% fun, IMO. Although I’m not sure I’m a good judge, really. But I think it’s fun. I was tempted to add more details — about Elfie and Firefly, especially, since they are basically what she’s got to answer that final question. But I’m not sure answering the question inspires as much curiosity as ending with the question does. Decisions, decisions!

Naming the Day

18 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by in A Precarious Magic, Personal

≈ 9 Comments

Today is either “Write a Book Description Day” or it’s “Stay Under the Covers and Feel Miserable Day.” One or the other, I haven’t decided which. Maybe it will wind up being both, but I sorta suspect that they are mutually exclusive. If I succeed in writing a book description, I won’t be miserable, and if I’m overly miserable, I probably won’t succeed in writing a book description. Chicken and egg, I think.

Anyway, my allergies have gone insane, which is making me pretty sad. I strongly suspect I need to completely eliminate dairy from my diet, which is not at all fun. I would like to somehow blame my state of being on gluten, but I can’t come up with any risk factors at all, so… well, it is what it is. Maybe I’m just sick.

Yesterday, Zelda hurt her paw. She is a stoic dog — a vet once said, “Even for her breed, this is a tough little dog,” as she patiently let herself be tortured — but she was in serious distress yesterday. Not whimpering, but holding her paw up as high as possible, not letting it touch the ground. She let me examine it pretty closely, pulling away a little but not resisting too much, and eventually I concluded that it was a fire ant bite right under her pad. I would so much rather it had been a burr. I gave her some benadryl, put some baking soda paste on it, and eventually, she mostly fell asleep but even in her sleep she was lifting her paw, trying to find a position where it wouldn’t hurt. It was not fun. I would rather be bitten by a fire ant myself than watch my dog suffer. Today should really be “Find the Fire Ant Mound and Kill Them All Dead Day” but the mere thought of that quest pushes “Stay Under the Covers” back up to the top of the list.

Last night, I was writing the book description as I fell asleep. I promised myself I would remember all the brilliant words I was writing. I don’t, of course. But I do know that I’m confronting the question of how much to explain about the Sia Mara in the description. Usually, I like very people-focused book descriptions. It’s Fen’s story, so what matters is who she is, what she’s faced with. But without the context of the Sia Mara, I’m not sure how to explain that. I’m also reminding myself that the purpose of the book description is to sell the book, not tell the story. But so far my two options for the opening lines are:

Missing, presumed… just fine?

Followed by something about Fen struggling to manage life in a magical underwater city until Gaelith disappears and Fen decides to run away to rescue her. (Basically, this is what happens in the first three chapters of the book.)

Or

For millennia, the Sia Mara hid from humanity in magic underwater refuges. They used to have seven of them. Now they have six.

Followed by, um… something that probably gives away the plot twists of A Lonely Magic. A dilemma. But the central concern of A Precarious Magic actually is both what happened to Wai Pa (the city that fell) and whether Val Kyr (another city) will fall. Mostly it’s just fun, though. I think, anyway.

Hmm, and I guess I’m working on my book description. Go, me! But if you have thoughts on those options, or opinions about what you like and dislike in a book description, particularly what motivates you to read on, please share!

white dog walking on green grass in heavily treed park
Somewhere in this scenic park, the evil predators might lie in wait. Or not. They might be in the yard, too, but it was after we came back from a walk that Z started favoring her paw.

Cici 2 Snippet

14 Thursday Nov 2019

Posted by in Cici

≈ 6 Comments

I thought I should find a great photo to post this morning, since my travel/life news boils down to “sitting in a driveway, concentrating on my computer.” But my photography also boils down to “sitting in a driveway, concentrating on my computer.” So have a Cici snippet instead.

Romeo tugged on the back of Cici’s all-weather coat. “Lady coming this way,” she whispered in a carrying voice. “Looking for ya, I think.” 

Cici turned in the direction Romeo indicated. 

The woman wasn’t wearing the obvious uniform of the officials at the desks, but her dark jacket, dark pants and dark soft-soled shoes looked like a uniform nonetheless. People shifted out of her way automatically, without hesitating, as she strode across the terminal. Not quite like she was invisible, but more as if she carried a repelling charm, sensed but not seen. Or maybe that was just because her stern expression and energetic demeanor were vaguely threatening. 

Cici repressed a sigh. 

The woman reached them and bent her head and upper body in a brief half-bow. It was not the full bow of respect she would have given to the ambassador or the brisk nod she probably would have given the average stranger, but a gesture perfectly tuned to convey, “I don’t know who you are, but I’m not taking any chances.” 

Or that’s what Cici thought anyway. Maybe the woman thought she was saying something more like, “Welcome to Valtona.” Tough to say, really. 

“Welcome to Valtona,” the woman said. Her voice was firm but held a hint of breathiness under the surface. She cleared her throat and when she spoke again, the breathiness was gone. “I understand you seek communication protocols for the Renuvian Embassy. A vehicle has been summoned and awaits you at the nearest entrance. May I escort you?” 

Cici glanced at the overhead display. The numbers were flickering past too fast to see, but as she watched, they slowed and stopped. 12421. The numerals blinked furiously. 

She let her gaze roam over the terminal. The calm misery of hundreds of people waiting endlessly for their numbers to be called had turned into complete chaos, a confused jumble of beings all moving at once. People jostled for places in line, rushing toward the exits, laden with their boxes and bags. The kargoi slithered by, its tentacles no longer serene yellow, but a dramatic joyful purple. 

Cici hesitated. Technically, she should wait until all of the beings who were ahead of her in line were finished. But even with every desk open and the officials stamping documents with barely a glance, it would take some time for the crowds to clear out. 

“Is that a problem?” All breathiness was gone. The woman narrowed her eyes at Cici. “The embassy has been notified of your arrival. The vehicle belongs to them.” 

Cici’s lips twitched. Well. Good for the Valtonans. Not totally cowed, then. Or at least, careful. Impersonating a Renuvian would be ridiculously dangerous, but not everyone might know that. 

“It will be my pleasure to visit the embassy.” Cici slipped her free hand into the inner top pocket of her all-weather coat. She carried two sets of documents, of course, and ordinarily, she would pass through planetary customs with the set that would arouse no questions. But given that she’d already mentioned Renuvia, she’d use her real identification. 

By touch, she separated her Renuvian passport from her human passport, and pulled it out. She extended it toward the Valtonan woman. 

The woman fell back a few steps, but recovered quickly. “Unnecessary,” she said, breathiness back in full force, as she waved away Cici’s passport. 

“Oooh!” Romeo’s whisper was filled with delight. “Pretty.” 

Cici bit back the smile, tucking her passport away again. Renuvian passports were suitable for dragons, but humans did tend to find the fact that they were written in fire and burned at a temperature well past that which would sear human flesh to the bone rather off-putting. 

Understandable, Cici supposed. 

But it left her with a dilemma. Should she tell this woman her name? 

*****

Unedited and a first draft, of course. The writing is not actually going very well. I’m way behind on my NaNo goals and feeling forced to acknowledge that books require plots, and plots require thinking time. My plan of just throwing in all sorts of things that entertain me still requires transitions and character development and the creation of tension. In absolutely poor NaNo behavior, I’ve deleted words and edited chapters — bad me, bad, bad, bad. It’s not possible to write 50K words in a month if you delete some of them. Part of my mistake might have been that the revision of APM is hovering over me — I’m not feeling finished with Fen and so even though I love Cici, I’m having a tough time getting the words to flow. I’m not quite ready to throw in the towel on NaNo… but I’m probably getting close. Fortunately, even if I give up on NaNo, I’m going to keep writing Cici. Although I did start Fen 3 while I was falling asleep last night, so I should probably write those ideas down this morning, too. So many stories, so much gnashing of teeth as I try to turn them into shareable form!

Falling behind

11 Monday Nov 2019

Posted by in Personal, Randomness, Self-publishing, Writing

≈ 10 Comments

I’m feeling stressed this morning. It feels like there are so many things I should be doing, so much stuff to get done, and I’m not getting to any of it. I’d list it all out — a formal letter to get my rights reverted on the Spanish translation, investigate cheaper website hosting, first edit pass on APM, etc, etc, etc. — but the complete list would keep going and going, and it would make me more stressed. Instead, I’m going to breathe and remember the reasons why I’ve fallen behind.

I spent the first weekend of November camping with my niece at Lake Louisa. We used my camping chairs, ate good food, talked a ton, went to a writer’s event with my friend Lynda, built a campfire and toasted ghost-shaped marshmallows, and finished up by having Sunday brunch with my dad and stepmom. My clearest memory of the weekend, already a week later, is sitting in the camping chairs, watching the sky changing colors as the sun set and we talked about what it means to take charge of your own life.

My niece lighting our campfire at Lake Louisa.
I made C light the fire. It’s not hard to convince a 16-year-old that she wants to be the person to play with matches! (Not literal matches.)

Back in Sanford, at Christina’s house, I played games with C & co (her boyfriend & their sons). My favorite is definitely Song Pop Party, an Apple TV song recognition game that I’m terrible at but that I truly enjoy. We also played some Super Fight and some Azul. And we spent a full day playing Arkham Horror, including brunch in the morning with home-made hashbrowns and eggs, and pizza in the late afternoon. We knew it was going to take hours to play the game — it’s that kind of game — so it was a planned experience, but I think I am not someone who wants to play ten-hour games. It was moments of fun interspersed with much rules confusion and a fair amount of frustration. We did win in the end (it’s a cooperative game), but I would have accepted a loss quite contentedly if it came about four hours sooner.

On Thursday, I left Sanford to visit my friend Joyce in Casselberry. Our plan was to write, write, write. Instead we wrote a little, talked a lot, walked the dog, and enjoyed one another’s company.

On Friday, I drove down to Merritt Island to spend the weekend with my friend Lynda. Our plan was to write, write, write. Instead… well, we did write. I managed 1000 words on both weekend days. But again, there was much conversation. And 1000 words are okay numbers, but not NaNo numbers. Today is November 11th and my word count should be closing in on 20,000 words — instead I’m still under 8K. I’m approaching the zone where it’s going to be impossible to catch up. Not there quite yet, but getting close. Oh, well, I’ve been living a good life and that is more important than a word count! And Sunday was a beautiful day, with the kind of perfect Florida weather that has been scarce since I got here. We sat on Lynda’s porch and admired the water and talked for hours. A good day, even without the writing.

View of water off a dock and the moon rising, with a bird overhead.
The moon rising, from the back deck.

I’m also taking a class right now, called Write Better Faster. It’s the course from the book I mentioned a few months ago, called Dear Writer, You Need to Quit. I got so much out of the book that when the class kept appearing in my awareness — Facebook friends taking it, conversations showing up about it in weird places — I decided it was worth a try, and would complement my NaNo efforts nicely. As it happens, I’m no longer thinking it complements NaNo — it’s pretty distracting. But the first week of the class was all personality tests and thinking about writing pain points and how they mesh with and are caused by our personalities. Sadly for me, so far I think I’ve learned I should be an editor not a writer, which is not really the learning I was hoping for. But there are three weeks of the class left to go, so I’m still optimistic. And it is interesting, even if it’s not yet helping me write better and faster.

In other mixed news — is it good or bad, I wonder? — my Kindle Fire is dead. I have no idea what happened to it, but I suspect it might be the charging cable or the connection, since it basically just stopped working and will not start again. I’m sorta bummed about this, because I was playing two games that want regular check-ins. I’m missing my chance to collect dragons and lumber! But it’s undoubtedly going to be good for my productivity to not be able to check in on those games when I am looking for distractions.

Gorgeous morning clouds
View from the van window, 6:30 AM, November 11, 2019.

And now I need to get on with my Monday. I’m headed back to Sanford today, but I think my major goal for the day is going to be to write a complete to-do list — all those things that I chose not to include in the first paragraph of this blog post! — and start working on checking a few of them off. Dentist appointment, doctor appointment, oil change for the van. Book files updated and uploaded. Newsletter written and sent, etc. etc. etc. At least Monday blog post is checked off! And honestly, I have no regrets. The first ten days of November might not have been nearly as productive as I wanted them to be, but they have been lovely, enjoyable days.

A Precarious Magic

01 Friday Nov 2019

Posted by in A Precarious Magic, Writing

≈ 8 Comments

11:28 PM. First draft, done. The words “The End” written.

Not quite a sigh of satisfaction, because, you know, first draft. My ending still needs work, I’ve already got plans for some major word-chopping in the first third. But… well, pretty close to a sigh of satisfaction. And just in time to start a NaNo project tomorrow!

Progress, lack thereof

28 Monday Oct 2019

Posted by in A Precarious Magic, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

I was having one of those delightful, half-asleep, creative bursts of inspiration — where all the story pieces are just flowing from one interesting moment to another and it all feels fantastically fun — and then I fully woke up, and thought, “What???” I think there was a banana peel involved. I’d love to know how banana peels became so emblematic of slapstick humor. I bet it was an old movie. Because, really, how often does one slip on a banana peel? How often is there a banana peel lying in the street? Anyway, my half-asleep self was having fun, but not making a lot of sense.

Also, my half-asleep self was working on the wrong book. Bad, half-asleep self, bad. Last week, my gluten-reaction kept me from finishing APM. I wasn’t so sick that I ever fully regretted my choices — and now that it’s over, I definitely think the corned beef was worth it — but I was sick enough that writing was not happening. So it goes.

Last night, I was explaining my plans for this week — they included a lot of, “I will stare at my file, I will get discouraged, I will go do something different,” — when Greg, C’s bf, started asking me questions. It was awesome. He asked exactly the right questions to precipitate ideas. I’m not 100% of the way there, but I’m close enough that I’m hoping for great things for today and tomorrow.

Sleeping dog
Zelda, adorably asleep, with her paw over her nose.

While I was sick, I read the whole file again, a little bit in “first revisions” mode, ie searching for places with problems, slow parts, things that would need to be cut or have major revisions made. I wound up not marking it for any revisions at all, because I was too engrossed in the story. The beginning felt slow, but that might just be because it’s too familiar to me now, since I’ve edited it numerous times. But it made me laugh. It’s not the story I set out to write at all, but it’s definitely fun. And now I’m going to get back into it. Happy Monday!

Little Fort Campground, George Washington National Forest

11 Friday Oct 2019

Posted by in A Precarious Magic, Campground, Vanlife, Writing

≈ 6 Comments

When I set off from Allentown on Monday, my plan was to take a slow drive south, seeing the scenery along the way. I had my sights on a small National Forest campground for my first night, to be followed by a drive through Shenandoah, then more driving along the Blue Ridge Parkway. With overnight stops along the way, of course. By the weekend, I’d be in North Carolina. I’d explore Asheville and the Great Smoky Mountains, maybe check out the ruby mine in Cherokee, just because I liked the sapphire mine in Montana so much. 

In other words, I’d be a tourist. 

The only problem with this plan is that the book isn’t finished, and I really truly want to get it done. 

I made it to my first destination: Little Fort Campground in the George Washington National Forest. It’s a tiny campground, only nine sites, and it has no amenities. No water, no hook-ups, no showers, no dump station, no garbage service. Also no internet access and no cell service. It’s also free, so you know, you get what you pay for. 

Except not really, because it is beautiful and treed and peaceful. Not a view, exactly — it’s just a spot in the middle of a forest — but out of every window I see trees, just starting to pick up their autumn color. The campground seems to be a base point for people with ATVs, so occasionally the noise of humankind is pretty loud. But mostly it’s crickets. Literal crickets, lots and lots of them. At night, the only lights I can see are the ones created by the van and by nature. Well, and once a campfire from people across the way. 

When I got here on Monday, I had my choice of three sites: one right next to the check-in board that was so tiny the van would barely squeeze in; one relatively sloped site; and one that was the nicest spot in the campground — a pull-through spot, with steps up to a level square with a picnic table, fire ring, and paved tent spot. 

I feel like it would be good to explore my reservations about taking the nicest spot with a therapist sometime — really, why did I hesitate? Why did I feel like I should leave that spot to some person with a bigger camper who would need a pull-through? Why did I feel guilty, in a first-come, first-served campground, about choosing the best option of the available options? I don’t know, but I did. However, I overcame the guilt and took the good spot. 

And then I stayed. Because honestly, I feel like I should see the National Parks, since I’m so close. And I feel like I should take the long scenic drives, and admire the beauty of our autumn countryside. And I feel like I should explore Asheville, a town that I’ve been told I’d love so many times. 

But what I want to do is finish writing APM. So for the past two days, I’ve played with words and stared into space and eaten nice food and taken occasional brief walks with Z and enjoyed my life. Ever so much, enjoyed my life. 

I’m writing this on Thursday, but you’re not going to read it on Thursday, because I have no internet access. When I went to sleep last night, I was thinking today was the day I’d drive on. Shenandoah, Blue Ridge Parkway, etc. Also internet access for checking email and messages, posting blog posts. But I’m not going to. Maybe tomorrow if I run out of water or propane or finish writing the book. (The first is possible but unlikely; the second is possible and somewhat likely; the third is highly unlikely.) Instead, I’m going to keep playing with words and appreciate the sounds of crickets. 

Spot #1 at Little Fort Campground.

Updated to add: propane was the deciding factor. But before I left, I had such a nice experience. I realized I was going to have to go late Thursday afternoon, while heating up some soup for dinner. I was a little bummed, but accepting. Obviously, it was still a choice: I could have stayed without propane. But I would have had to run the generator to make coffee in the morning and I am not capable of being that rude to my neighbors. No one likes being woken up by a growling gas generator when camping.  

So I packed up the van so I could be ready to go first thing in the morning. Everything was stowed, I was mostly all set to go… and a late arrival drove into the campground. A truck, pulling a trailer. Not huge, but the only site in the campground that he might possibly fit into was mine. He drove in, took the loop, was making his way out, and I hopped out of the van and flagged him down. Ten minutes later, I was moved into the tiny site across the way, the one next to the check-in board, and a very happy camper — who’d been on the road for eleven hours — was settling into my site. He was grateful and the serendipity felt like the universe telling me it was time to move on. It was such nice timing. 

And no, the book isn’t done. It took another unexpected turn, which… well, it’s an unexpected book, I guess. But I spent quite a bit of time wavering about this unexpected turn. A paragraph that sums up the dilemma: 

“Fen fumbled for the crystal in her pocket, unable to tear her eyes away from Ghost. Clearly, she had fallen asleep and woken up in some bad B movie from the 1950s. This couldn’t possibly be real.” 

Fortunately, I eventually decided that bad B movies can be highly entertaining and I might as well stick with enjoying the ride. “Still giggling” remains among my favorite reader feedback ever, after all!

Best of September 2019

30 Monday Sep 2019

Posted by in A Precarious Magic, Best of

≈ 6 Comments

The light at sunrise here is so beautiful. The moment when the sun crests the hill of trees, directly across the river from the van window, and the true light reaches the water is a moment. Not the slow change from night to day, not the slow lightening of the sky, but a specific two minute period where suddenly the van is golden and the leaves of the trees are outlined in color, a translucent bright green instead of the usual mass. The color of the light is different than at any other time. It’s not that it’s brighter, I don’t think — and actually the shadows are very long, so no, it’s not brighter, it’s a contrast between darkness and brightness, but it’s a glow. And the fog usually has its ghost tendrils dancing on the water, but they are still in shadow, so the trees and lawn are bright and green and golden, but just beyond them is misty shadowed gloom. Yeah, it’s cool as anything, and truly beautiful. 

Autumn tree with river beyond
Not sunrise. You can tell because the river is not shadowed and scattered with wisps of fogs. But none of my sunrise pictures capture how pretty it is . This one at least gets the light on the leaves almost right. Almost.

And for 30 days in a row, I’ve gotten to see it. Well, more or less, some mornings were overcast. But how do I pick the best out of all those days when they were really all very much alike? Much time spent sitting at the computer, but not at all in a bad way. I spent much of July sitting at the computer, pretty much annoyed and hating everything I was doing. This was all sitting at the computer mostly loving what I was doing. (Until the last two days which have been really terrible, frustrating, annoying writing days. More about that in a minute or two.) Some walks with the dog, although not usually very long walks. A little bit of kayaking. The occasional trip into town for groceries, propane, tank dumping, and once, a delightful meal with a friend of a friend. Some good food, although living without a kitchen sink became annoying enough that I basically moved back to van-life cooking. Quinoa bowls and sous vide protein for the win. But always a beautiful view, almost always lovely weather. Even the rainy days were nice because they were cozy in the van. 

There were some days that stick out. I had my worst ever dump station experience, a true disaster, sewage everywhere. Ugh. That was not the best day.  I binged on reading for a few days, accompanied by warm baths, and those were nice. That baked cod with goat cheese I made was delicious, and I had gluten-free chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream as dessert with it and that was all very satisfying, even though the cake was so-so.  

But honestly, I think the best day(s) were the ones when the writing was going well. There was a day when I — realized something? Made a discovery? Had an inspiration? Well, lightning struck. I had an idea. A good idea, that once I had it seemed so damn obvious that I couldn’t believe I wasn’t heading toward that idea all along. And I’m sorry to be so convoluted in my talking about it, but I don’t want to get too spoiler-y. It’s not a twist, exactly, but it’ll be more fun if you’re as surprised by it as I was. Anyway, conveniently enough — or in one of life’s lovely coincidences — that was also the weekend when I saw the shooting star. So I’m picking the weekend of September 21-22 as my best days of the month of September 2019. 

And moving on — I only have a few more days here and I really, really want to finish writing this book before my life becomes disrupting. But the last couple of days were major writing struggle. I wound up cutting out a section/plan because it was just too ambitious. Yesterday I wrote in circles for hours — literally, hundreds of words going nowhere — and finally gave up and went and took a bath. Having a bathtub available is so lovely. I’m going to miss it. But the time spent staring into space while immersed in warm water made me realize that I needed to let go of one of the ending scenes that I’d been planning all along. I was trying to get the characters there during my writing in circles, and it just wasn’t happening. So I’m hoping for better things for today’s words — at least I can see where I shouldn’t be going now — but I’m feeling anxious and stressed about whether I can actually finish this. I have to remind myself that endings are always a challenge, always hard for me, but I so, so, so don’t want this to turn into another Grace. Word by word, right? One at a time, that’s all it takes. In terms of actual word count goals, I’ve hit them — if it was just a numbers game, I could call the story done. Alas, readers rather like conclusions (as do I), so somehow I have to get there. Time to get started on that!