On My Knees

Thursday morning in New Orleans, and it looks to have rained overnight–which might account for my deep and restful sleep last night. It’s been cold since I returned to New Orleans on Sunday evening–I wore not only a T-shirt under my sweaters to work this week but also tights under my jeans. When I got home from work late yesterday afternoon it was still bitterly cold; but the overnight rain was expected to warm things up a bit. It’s not as cold in the Lost Apartment as it was last night when I went to bed, but it’s still not balmy. Rain is forecast for most of the day today, but it’s not raining now, so we’ll just have to see how that all works out. I don’t get off work until late this evening–eight-ish–but Thursday are generally (knocks wood) slower than the other days of the week. Not sure why that is, but there you have it.

I’ve not written much this week. I’m still a bit overwhelmed by my new responsibilities and trying to get caught up on everything I need to get caught up on for Mystery Writers of America; I’ve been alternating between being excited and being terrified, off and on, for the last few days. I have made some notes, and the secret project I’ve been working on (and wanted to get finished this week) has been taking shape in my head. Now I just need to find some time to actually sit down and start committing it all to paper (a Word document, actually, but you know what I mean). I’ve also had another Scotty book taking shape in my head over the last week or so, and its not the one I thought I was going to write next. It’s a different one; an idea about the gentrification of the city post-Katrina that I’ve been calling Bywater Bohemia Bougie in my head all this time. It’s a bit of a mouthful–well aware of that–but it does fit the usual schematic of Scotty titles. I have several ideas about what the book should cover, and now I just have to figure out how to pull all those disparate thoughts and ideas all together in a cohesive story.

I am also still reading Bourbon Street, and am now to the 1960’s, and the monstrous Jim Garrison years as district attorney, as Bourbon Street began to shift from what it was before to what it is now, and as tourism slowly began to overtake everything else as the leading industry for the city. I can’t recommend this book enough, Constant Reader; Richard Campanella is fantastic, and his writing makes a terrific subject even more enjoyable.

We’re nearly finished watching Messiah, which we are still enjoying, and also started watching the second season of Sex Education, which is just as funny and entertaining and charming as the first season was–I do recommend it, and Gillian Anderson is fantastic as the main character Owen’s mother, a sex therapist. The entire first episode is about an outbreak of chlamydia at the high school–which isn’t nearly as bad as people think it actually is because none of them actually know how chlamydia is transferred. (when it is first mentioned as being airborne, I literally said out loud No it isn’t. The day job–no matter what, it’s always there in the back of my mind) We laughed out loud multiple times, and that of course means the show is a winner in our book.

It’s also going to be a little strange and weird this weekend to not have any football to watch–but at the same time, it frees up a lot of time for me to write, clean, plan and do all those things–including read–that I don’t get done during football season. Of course the US Figure Skating Championships are this weekend, so…yeah, there’s that, too. Heavy sigh.

I also took some time last night to read another fifty pages of Elizabeth Little’s fantastic new novel, Pretty as a Picture, and I am loving it. Like all the best writers, reading Liz makes me want to be a better writer and also inspires stories of my own that I want to write–which always is an indicator, to me, that the author is spectacular at what they do. If you’ve not read her first, Dear Daughter, do so–you won’t be sorry, and then you’ll then have the exquisite pleasure of reading Pretty as a Picture when it is finally released into the wild.

And on that note, it’s back to the spice mines with me. Have a lovely morning, Constant Reader.

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