Category: LSU

The Second Time Around

…for Chanse, that is.

Oddly enough, the second Chanse was the fourth novel I published, and therein lies a tale.

Funny how with these earlier books there’s always a story, isn’t it?

So, I sold Murder in the Rue Dauphine to Alyson in September of 1999–but the pub date wasn’t until February 2002. I saw no point in writing a sequel to the book immediately; primarily because there was a nearly two and a half year wait between signing the contract and when they were able to schedule me in. So, I figured I had about a year and a half before I needed to get it finished (everyone told me it would be released a year after the first, and in all honesty, what was the point of writing two or three books while waiting for the first to come out so the others could be scheduled?), and so, with time to spare and a lengthy period of time to “waste”, I decided to start thinking about the “what ifs”–what if the book sells super-well and is popular? What if this isn’t just a one-off standalone and could be turned into a series? The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea and I liked letting my mind roam.

So, what would I do if the series took off and I needed to write more?

Being creative and full of energy in my late thirties, and thrilled to death that now I wouldn’t die without having published a novel, I reread the manuscript and my analysis of who Chanse was and why he was who he was, and I started mapping out a personal journey for him, that lasted several books. He was a cynical loner, with a couple of friends, and he was still really not adjusted to being gay when the first book opens. He was estranged from his immediate family of younger sister and brother and his parents; he never returned to Cottonwood Wells after leaving for LSU. He’s ashamed of his family but he also knows they will never accept his sexuality, either, so it’s very easy for him to cut them off almost entirely. So, his journey was going to be like that of the main characters of the show Moonlighting; each case would teach himself something about life and himself, and he would grow from the lesson learned in each book. Each book going forward would have a life lesson for him (Rue Dauphine did as well; the lesson was ‘you can’t just trust someone automatically because they’re queer.’); and the one he’d learn in the second book would be about love and trust (the third would be about sacrifice, the fourth would deal with his family, the fifth would have him fall in love with someone else, the sixth would deal with him dealing with losing his best friend to her husband and realizing he does need other people, and the seventh, the swan song for the story, would find him ready to finally commit to someone and live with them, so the series would be seven books long).

Shortly after I sold the first book, I again learned that lesson myself–the case in the first book was inspired by a gay con artist who’d gotten involved with a non-profit here in the city and then blew out of town overnight, having stolen/embezzled a shit ton of money and leaving a pile of debts behind. I had written to a local color magazine for the gay community (I can’t remember the name!) about writing for them. I wrote something for them, and they hired me to be editor of the magazine, as the business was expanding and it would free up the founder to focus on the new directions while I ran the magazine. It was fun, I got to work with a lot of fun new friends, and…then it all blew up in our faces. It was very similar to the earlier situation–a gay con artist blows into town, makes a lot of promises, runs up a lot of debt and then it just blew up completely. Turns out the guy was a con artist with a record of credit card fraud, and he was on the FBI watchlist so yes, I did get interviewed several times by the local office of the FBI.

The second book, which had the working title Murder in the Rue Royal, was based on that story, but I had already been playing around with a stalker storyline, and then I realized how I could cross the two stories into one seamlessly and write the book. I managed to get another first draft finished when a two-book deal to write the Scotty series for Kensington and Alyson dropped the option for the second book, saying “two mystery series with a gay main character in the same city by the same author are too similar to each other”–which I took as a challenge to make Bourbon Street Blues and Scotty as different as I possibly could to prove them wrong. So, the manuscript went into a drawer and I started happily working on Scotty instead…and again, it was a stand-alone that morphed into a series.

This was the Insightoutbooks edition cover of Murder in the Rue St. Ann
This is the new cover the book got when Bild Strokes Books republished the book as an ebook.

I took a streetcar named St. Charles down to Canal, crossed the street and walked down to Royal.

It was eleven o’clock in the morning on one of those splendidly sunny September days that makes you glad to be alive. Taking the streetcar had been a good idea. The long heat of summer had broken, and the air was crisp and in the mid-seventies. The sky was that blue unique to New Orleans, with wispy white clouds scattered across its expanse. There was just a hint of cool moisture in the air. There were a lot of people milling around the sidewalks on Canal— a good sign for the tourist season. Canal used to be the main shopping drag of the city, with huge department stores like Maison Blanche and D. H. Holmes. Those were long gone. They had either gone out of business or fled to the suburbs— now it was mostly hotels, fast food, and Foot Lockers.

There were hopes that putting the Canal streetcar line back in place would stimulate a recovery for the street. So far, all the construction work had simply made the Quarter difficult to get to from uptown. Add to that the chore of trying to find a place to park that would get me a ticket in two hours or cost ten dollars, and I was kind of glad I was having car trouble—the streetcar down and a cab home was very simple.

Not that riding the streetcar didn’t bring its own set of aggravations.  If the cars ran on any fixed schedule, I’d never been able to figure it out. You could wait for one for half an hour and then three in a row, all packed to the gills, would show up. The streetcar ostensibly operated as public transportation, but was also a de rigeur tourist attraction. There was no way of telling when you’d be able to catch one with a place to sit. But when you did, it was nice to find  a window seat on a sunny day and enjoy the city clacking by.

So, when Alyson chose to drop the Chanse series after I signed with Kensington, Murder in the Rue Royal went back into a drawer, which was fine–it wasn’t a good book–and I moved on with my life. The advance for signing with Kensington paid for our move back to New Orleans from Washington, and moving back here was absolutely worth ending the Chanse series for, seriously. I still didn’t have an agent, but I’d been signed to book contracts by two publishers already, and I figured it might be easier now. We accomplished the move, get our new apartment set up on Sophie B. Wright Place, and started putting our lives back together. I don’t remember the timeline of how it came to be, but I was still working with Alyson on my first and second erotic anthologies (Full Body Contact and FRATSEX), so I was aware when my editor left and a new person, that I knew slightly, moved from assistant editor to senior editor. We were talking on the phone one day about Full Body Contact and she casually mentioned, “I don’t see your second Chanse book here on the schedule, what’s going on?” and I told her the story, “Oh for fuck’s sake, when can you get it done by?” and that became the second contract for Chanse.

So, after finished Jackson Square Jazz and turning it in, I broke out Murder in the Rue Royal (the title had already been changed on the contract to Murder in the Rue St. Ann; my new editor didn’t like the alliteration) from the drawer, blew the dust off it, and reread the manuscript. I looked at my timeline for the series, and saw that this was the one where he was supposed to fuck up his relationship, but I didn’t see it in the manuscript. I reread the first book, thought long and hard about Chanse and who he was at this point in his life and after several long days of musing it hit me, between the eyes: jealousy. Jealousy would be what fucks up his relationship, and it only made more sense to me that Chanse would be the jealous one. Paul had a loving, accepting family and was more secure in and of himself as a gay man and what he wanted out of life. Paul was considering becoming ground-based at the New Orleans airport so he could settle down and have more of a life with Chanse, which also has Chanse very alarmed and makes the jealousy even more intense….so what would be the thing that would set Chanse’s jealousy off? Something from Paul’s past that Chanse didn’t know but finds out about in the worst possible way?

I had had some issues, believe it or not, with stalkers over the years. I had always wanted to write about a stalker, so what if Paul had a stalker? Why would Paul have a stalker? And then it occurred to me that Paul had a past he wasn’t ashamed of, but had never mentioned to Chanse. Not out of a fear that Chanse wouldn’t understand, but mainly because he had no need to tell him because it wasn’t anything dark. He had done some nude modeling when he was younger and he had also done some soft-core wrestling fetish porn, which is where the stalker came from. And what if I could work the con man he’s been hired by was someone Paul knew from the soft-core fetish porn? What if the guy contacted Paul because he’d been getting threatening notes on top of everything else going on in his life? And what if Chanse ran into Paul when he was leaving the con man’s offices, which brings all this out about Paul’s past? What if it shook a jealous, possessive, insecure Chanse enough for them to fight about it? And what if Paul disappears after the con man is murdered?

That was something I could work with, and so I did.

I’ve always called Murder in the Rue St. Ann my most under-appreciated work. By the time the book had come out, Paul had lost his eye to the muggers and we were in recovery mode. I didn’t do much of anything to promote the book (other than a signing at Outwrite in Atlanta, where I signed all of my books until they closed), and it kind of came and went quickly. I felt it was the most unappreciated of all my books. Jackson Square Jazz had come out earlier in the year before Paul was attacked, and it sucked all the oxygen up that year intended for me–it was the Lambda nominee, not Rue St. Ann–and I didn’t pay much attention to the book after it came out, either. The ‘christians” came for me a few months after the book’s release as well, and then Katrina…so yeah, Rue St. Ann got no press, got no attention, but somehow still managed to sell well.

I did have the next one planned, Murder in the Rue St. Claude, which there was a proposal in for, but Alyson was also going through other, deeply concerning changes that showed how little the higher-ups knew about anything, let alone publishing. But that’s a tale for another time, I think.

Vincent

Here we are on Iris Saturday and I feel fine.

PT was hard yesterday–it keeps getting harder every time–but I got through it, did very well with it, and then walked outside, my endorphins pumping through my veins and it was simply a beautiful, sunny day in New Orleans. I picked up my prescription before PT, and got the mail afterwards before driving home down Prytania Street. I did have trouble finding a place to park on the way there, so was a few minutes late–it’s close to Napoleon and people were already camping out on the parade route for the night parades–so I was certain I wouldn’t find parking when I got home. My spot was there Thursday night when I got home, so what were the odds I’d have parade parking luck two days in a row? But lo and behold, my spot was waiting for me when I got home.

Needless to say, that also dramatically picked up my spirits! And now the car won’t move again until Monday…which begs the question, will I have parking when I get home after PT Monday morning?

I spent most of my time out on the corner Thursday night just marveling at it, the way I always do at first–so many people, so many costumes, so much partying and so much joy; how dark it is here at night, so it’s like the dark is reaching down from the sky to absorb the lights from the parade and flames of the flambeaux, and everyone is a good mood. It’s so lovely to just go out and hang with friends and neighbors and strangers. You always end up talking to total strangers and having a good time, relaxed and a slightly buzzed (some people do overdo it and become Carnival tragedies) and watchings kids tossing footballs around on the street when there’s a break between parades (or a breakdown in the parade) and of course, the marching bands are fucking amazing. I am going to write about Mardi Gras again soon, so it’s good to drink it all in again and remember fun times of past seasons.

I was too fatigued from the PT yesterday to go out there last night, so we watched LSU Gymnastics beat Georgia last night and then just relaxed for the rest of the night. I did watch the first episode of Abbott Elementary, which I really enjoyed, so we’ll continue watching that, I think. Despite a great night’s sleep, I am still feeling fatigued this morning, which means I’ll be dead tired after Iris today. We’ll see how I feel about Tucks after Iris is over. Sunday is always insane down there at the corner, so we generally skip Sundays, and then it’s Orpheus Monday.

I did get some chores done yesterday, too. I worked on the laundry room and swept the living room, got all the bedding laundered, and rested after getting my work-at-home duties completed. I think since it’s Iris Saturday, all I will do today is read and watch television or some movies or something. I did finish reading Deliberate Cruelty, so I am going to try not to start another one until all the ones I am in the middle of are complete. I also need to make a series of to-do lists: one for the apartment, one for my career, and one for my every day life. I need to snap out of the lethargy, and I really need to dive headfirst into writing again. I want to get these stories finished and I want to get back to work on the book I’m in the midst of and has been stalled for quite some time.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and ready for Iris to roll. See you later, Constant Reader, and may your Saturday be everything you desire in one.

Tainted Love

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and there are six parades today (I was wrong yesterday; I substituted Alla in for Druids for last night’s parades. I told you I don’t have the schedule memorized!), which can make for a long day and of course means I can’t really go anywhere at all today as I am trapped inside the parade route. They did move them all up so they roll during the morning and afternoon (threat of heavy rains in the evening) and if I am not mistaken they have done the same tomorrow? I was too tired and was almost asleep by the time the parades got to the neighborhood last night–and slept for just over ten hours, so clearly–Gregalicious was exhausted yesterday, and then some.

I had a doctor’s appointment that went swimmingly well yesterday morning (establishing primary care with a new doctor, whom I really liked on first meeting; he had a good manner, didn’t seem distracted, and asked probing follow-up questions to things I talked about–genetic predispositions to things and so forth, and genuinely seemed interested and had suggestions and answers for me about other things. His office building also has free parking, with is also lovely. That appointment took a very long time, so I didn’t have to wait terribly long before yesterday morning’s PT…in which my therapist Jacob introduced a weight bar to the therapy, so yes, we’ve moved on from dumbbells to that, and he even found a way to make planks more painful and tiring. So after making a quick grocery run (and still forgot a few things) I managed to come home for work-at-home duties. After that was completed, I tried reading for a little while to no avail, and finally watched the LSU-Arkansas Gymnastics meet, in which LSU got back to business and scored the highest team score in LSU Gymnastics History, which was pretty awesome. After that we tried to watch an episode of Lupin but we both fell asleep, which was a shame because it looked like a really good episode.

Today I am going to do more chores and try to get some more writing and reading done. There are six (!!!) parades, all starting at about a half-hour or so of each other (9, 9:30, 10, etc.) so they should all be past by the early evening –so if I want to run an errand or we needed something, I could easily (in theory) get out of the box tonight. I don’t think we will, really–we are low on crunchy salty snacks but that’s not a tragedy or anything to really be worried or concerned about. I do want to get the dishes and kitchen done, and establish some kind of order to the house (not easy with Mr. Wants To Get In Everything running around looking for play). Yesterday afternoon Sparky managed to get to the sink counter, from there to the top of the refrigerator, and then climbed up on top of the cabinets. In my imagination I saw everything stored up there some crashing down (and there were dishes soaking in the sink, so yes, it could have proved catastrophic) but it only took about ten minutes for him to get bored up there and realize it’s a long way down and start whimpering, so I had to get the little ladder out and climb up on the counter myself so I could reach and grab him so I could get hime down. He didn’t like that, either–he was clawing and terrified until I was able to put him down on the counter so he could jump to the floor and scramble off to safety, Sigh, the adventures of Big Kitten Energy are certainly something to experience.

I don’t think I’ll skip parades entirely today–I might go out every now and then just to take some pictures, watch the marching bands, and get a sense of the crowd and the energy of this Carnival. I don’t really remember the last Carnival I attended, which was actually the 2022 one (I was gone for 2023, 2021 was cancelled and was the year of the house floats, which was so amazing and so New Orleans); but I’ve no recollection of that year’s festivities at all. Maybe I should go back and look at my blog entries for then? Maybe I don’t need to really remember it much, either. Most of my Carnival memories are those of long ago, when we also used to go out all the time and truly celebrate the season before we got too old to walk to the Quarter and come home in the cold gray foggy mornings to rest up for a while before starting all over again. Carnival really is a magical time, and all it takes it to walk down to the corner on a beautiful day and once I catch that first throw I am right back into the spirit of things.

But still too old to walk to the Quarter.

I did finally take a walk around the neighborhood last night once I was finished with work for the day. I walked for about forty minutes, just around the neighborhood and down streets I rarely, if ever, venture down. It was indeed a beautiful day, in the low seventies and sunny, and that was still the case when I went on my walk as the cops were putting up barricades and closing streets, parking spaces disappearing throughout the neighborhood as people parked and walked over to the Avenue in their festive garb with coolers and rolling carts filled with food and ice and alcohol, boas were everywhere and goofy hats and those rugby striped shirts in the Carnival colors of purple, gold and green. But the end result of that unexpected exercise is tired legs and a sore lower back this morning (which could also have been from the PT as well) so I am going to just relax for a bit this morning and do some reading as I finish my coffee. There’s always FOMO involved in skipping parades–and the neighborhood did smell like grease and peppers and onions last night; that particular Carnival smell that becomes hardly noticeable by the second weekend, as the trees along the Avenue become festooned with sparking strings of beads in every color imaginable. Fences, porches and railings spring beads like crepe myrtles erupt with blossoms every spring.

There’s a winsome magic about Carnival, so that as it progresses you grow less frustrated with the parade traffic and the difficulty finding a place to park at home and the crowds of people and the trash growing exponentially on your street. Even just now typing all of this I’ve started thinking oh you can spend the afternoon out there which is, in and itself, the mentality that leads to pure exhaustion.

And on that note, I am going to my easy chair to read and swill coffee for a moment or two. Have a lovely Saturday wherever you are, and remember–it’s Carnival in New Orleans, so celebrate a bit for us. You’re allowed.

Hard to Say I’m Sorry

Saturday morning and I slept late blog, which is perfectly okay and not a cause for panic anymore over the “lost hours” I “wasted” this morning sleeping longer. I feel good this morning, actually, rested and alert and clear-headed, too. I had planned to not leave the house this weekend, but I may have to make a slight grocery run today to pick up a few things. I did spend some time in bed this morning awake and cuddling with Sparky while wondering if I do indeed need to go out into the rain or if it can wait until tomorrow or even Monday. There are a few things I do need, and if I go out of the house I can maybe get a burger somewhere, like Five Guys or Sonic. Decisions, decisions, you know? I’ve not had a burger in weeks, either, or red meat of any kind. This hasn’t been a conscious choice, of course, just how things have worked out. I weighed myself at work the other day and was still at around 203-204 (with my shoes, belt, wallet and keys on my person) so I am much closer to the 2024 goal weight I wanted to achieve.

And yes while it would be nice to go back under 200 again, I don’t really think that’s going to happen. And I don’t care if I do! At some point, I made progress on that score, too, which is really nice. Maybe it’s being over sixty and being seriously out of fucks to give? Whatever, it does feel lovely not to be worried about people thinking I look out of shape or gross or something. (I also haven’t set foot in a gay bar in practically a decade, if not longer. Coincidence? Probably not.)

Yesterday was a nice, quiet day around here. I spent the day doing chores around work duties. Sparky was his usual Big Energy Kitten self, galloping around and leaping at me and climbing me to ride my shoulders (his favorite place, I swear), but I managed to get dishes done and laundry finished and some picking up around here done before the LSU Gymnastics meet last night at Missouri; they didn’t win the meet and they had a below-par performance, especially after logging one of the highest scores of the year the week before against Kentucky. But it’s a long season and you can never count them out, as we discovered last year when they made the Final Four at the end of the year. After that we watched the figure skating, which wasn’t great, frankly. But I am happy for Amber Glenn to finally win the national title, even if she kind of backed into it, and it’ll be fun to watch the ice dance and the men this weekend. It was also a nice day because Paul worked at home, so he was here all day too, which I liked. I hate being a Festival widow, seriously. But it’ll be past soon, and then we’ll be heading into the summer with all that entails–stinging caterpillars, swarming termites, and high Entergy bills.

I’m hoping to get some good writing work done this weekend and not to be lazy, which is always a struggle for me. I want to get this first draft of “When I Die” finished, and I really want to finish the first draft of “Parlor Tricks” this weekend, as well as some other writing as well. I also have a stack of mail to get through, and some filing and other mess to straighten up here in the office space, which is all too often a victim of Big Kitten Energy, and it is again this morning as well. I also want to do the floors on the first floor again, and we also need to change the vent filter for the HVAC system, which is undoubtedly seriously overdue. (I need to order more filters, too, since the one I have is the last one, and there are some other things I could use from Lowe’s I could have delivered as well. Yay, delivery! I also need some things from Office Depot, but I don’t mind walking over there in the rain to get it, either. Maybe I can order a pizza for lunch from U Pizza as well as some things from Office Depot, which I can pick up in one fell swoop? I’m really getting back into pizza again, if you hadn’t noticed, but it had been years since I had a real pizza before Paul brought that one home from Midway on Freret–which is what I really want, actually–but I suppose the smart thing to do is finish this, do some email and cleaning around here while eating breakfast, then figuring out what I need to get from places and making an errand plan for either today or tomorrow. Of course, I could save the groceries until tomorrow as well….hmmm. Decisions, decisions.

Choices, said in Tatianna’s voice.

Looks like someone’s Big Kitten Energy has awakened as well, as I hear things crashing to the floor from the counters behind me. Sparky sure is lucky he is so darned cute and sweet, you know? LOL. He actually is, and he is definitely the boss around here too, with both of us wrapped around his monstrously sized paw.

All right, I think it’s time to bring this to a close and get on with the day. I need to empty the dishwasher and do some filing and cleaning, and I also need to make something to eat because I woke up very hungry this morning. So have a lovely Saturday wherever you are, Constant Reader, and who knows? I may be back later; I may not be back until tomorrow; it’s a mystery!

What’s Forever For

It’s cold again this morning in New Orleans, with it around thirty-one this morning as I swill my coffee and shiver a bit here in the workspace. There’s always cold air coming in from somewhere–the windows, the frames, somewhere–so it’s always a bit colder when I’m at my desk than it is elsewhere inside the apartment. I slept really well again last night–still don’t know where the sleeping pill bottle got to, thanks again, Sparky–but I do have a stopgap until I can get that prescription refilled again at the end of the month, and it worked last night. Fingers crossed that it continues to do so until I either find the original bottle or get the refill at the end of the month…

Yesterday was a good day around here. I had my strength PT yesterday morning, which is getting more difficult by the appointment. It really kicked up into gear yesterday, and while I was very happy to make it through the workout without begging for mercy or having to take too many breaks–it was harder than I imagined, but I also refused to get concerned, anxious or worried about the fact I was using only four pound dumbbells for some and a six pounder for others. But the burning of lactic acid in my muscles, while startling at first, eventually reminded me of how good it feels when you do work out, and the rest of my body was screaming to be stretched, exercised and used. I ran a couple of errands afterwards before returning home to my work-at-home chores. I finished watching the first episode of the 1982 BBC Brideshead Revisited, which I’d never seen before and am now watching (and eventually reading the original source material), inspired by Saltburn, and that’s partly so I can write more intelligently about the film, which still haunts me. I cannot remember the last time I was so interested and intrigued by and with a film, which means it’s a good one. It even has me thinking about revisiting The Talented Mr. Ripley, and reading more of the Ripley novels, which I have steadfastly ignored for the most part despite my abiding love for Highsmith’s work (the woman herself not so much…although it is interesting that two of my favorite women authors of all time, Highsmith and du Maurier, were lesbians or had lesbian tendencies).

We also watch Friday Night Heights, as ESPN calls the Friday night SEC gymnastics meets, to see LSU take down Kentucky and become the first team this season to break the overall 198 score mark, which is incredibly impressive. LSU has everything they need to win their first national title this year, but they’re going to have to be mentally tough and keep improving, which they already seem to be doing quite well.

After that, we watched the season finale of Reacher, which was fun if inexplicable; the ability to do all kinds of crazy stunts and so forth thanks to CGI does tend the make things a bit ridiculous as crews are always trying to outdo everything that came before. The helicopter scene was a bit preposterous, but no more preposterous than some of the aerial feats performed in whatever that Tom Holland/Mark Wahlberg treasure hunt movie was last year. (Those scenes always remind me that I wouldn’t survive as I would be so absolutely terrified I would either have a heart attack or a stroke on the spot, if not both simultaneously–you don’t see Scotty ever getting into a plane or a helicopter or anything; the biggest heights thing I ever did with Scotty was in Jackson Square Jazz and there’s been nothing since.)

I also think I am getting to the point where I am going to be ready to really start writing again. There was a lot of inspiration and creative thinking done yesterday while doing some tedious work-at-home chores; which really felt good. I think I may even be able to sit down tomorrow morning after i get up and actually go to town with writing. I am in the process of starting a new Scotty, so the opening is playing in my head; I know the boys will be living in the Garden District while Cooper Construction1 turns the townhouse on Decatur Street into a single family home again with a personal gym on the first floor. I had been thinking it needs to be set in either July or August (Mississippi River Mischief was set in May) and I definitely think it should be Hurricane Party Hustle, the accursed title and story I had to abandon in the wake of Katrina. It’s still a good story, and it could work, even with the difference in time (2005 was a different world than 2019, which is when this will be), then I can do the Mardi Gras book, and then the quarantine book….which will bring Scotty to twelve adventures and then maybe–just maybe–I can think about retiring the character and the series. I am not saying I am going to, but that’s as far out as I have him planned and when I run out of plans is usually when I reevaluate.

I also have some things to do today for the Bold Strokes Book-a-Thon today. At eleven am eastern I am moderating a panel on strong finishes; then I have a young adult panel and a “you’ve written an insane amount of books” panel. That’s probably going to take most of my brain bandwidth today, and when that’s all done I can probably do some chores and maybe do some reading–or watch more Brideshead Revisited.

And on that note, I think I am going to head into the spice mines for the rest of the day. Have a lovely Saturday, stay warm, and who knows? I might be back later.

  1. Yes, this is a shout out to A Streetcar Named Murder, in case you missed it. ↩︎

Get Up and Go

Sunday morning and the temperature is falling in New Orleans. It’s forty-one right now, which is nothing compared to what people up north are dealing with today, but we are getting down into water-freezing temperatures later this week. I slept for eleven hours last night, which is insane, but…my guess is I needed the rest. I didn’t get up until nine this morning, which is almost as insane as the weather. It’s amazing what a difference the right medications make, isn’t it? Yesterday was actually pleasant. I did some things, ran some errands, and then settled in to watch the LSU Gymnastics meet, which was a quad competition against three of the best teams in the country–UCLA, Oklahoma, and Utah–and the LSU team actually had to count a fall and still managed to come in second. They also had a subpar vault and beam rotation, which makes it even more amazing. GEAUX TIGERS! I also spent some time reading–which I am going to go do some more of once I finish this–and even wrote a little bit yesterday (a very little bit). But tomorrow is a holiday, and I have more chores and things to do today, without anything really to watch on deck.

It’s very nice to get up and feel rested, which happens more frequently these days.

I did a reading for the Bold Strokes Book-a-thon yesterday, with some other mystery writers from Bold Strokes, which was kind of nice. Mary Burns, who moderated the reading, also asked us all how we plan our books–essentially the plotter/pantser question–and it did make me think a bit about my process, how I do things. I write Scotty books differently than I write other books, fo one thing. I always think up three or four things that I want to address in a Scotty book, and from there I try to figure out how to weave them together into a story. This started with Baton Rouge Bingo–prior to it, I pretty much just pantsed the whole thing and figured it out as I went. I was asked on a panel at Saints and Sinners after Who Dat Whodunnit if I planned on writing another Scotty book, and I flippantly replied “if I can figure out a way to make the book about Huey Long’s deduct box, Mike the Tiger (the live LSU animal mascot), and the state’s ban on gay marriage, I will”, figuring as I said it there was no way anyone could write a book with all three elements in it. Three days later it all came to me how to make that actually work, and so I started writing it. For Mississippi River Mischief, there were several separate things; I wanted a family values politician hypocrite who had a thing for teenager boys, a tie in to The Haunted Showboat, and something from Scotty’s own past that he’s never really reexamined before, but has to because of the events in the book. It took me a while to figure out how to deal with the characters’ response to the events of Royal Street Reveillon–I could hardly pretend those things didn’t happen, after all–but eventually it all began to fall into place. I ended up with a book I was very pleased with, and probably one of the best books in the series. I’m not sure what Scotty is next, but I know it’s going to take place while the building on Decatur is renovated and redone as a single family residence, the boys will be living in the dower house–Taylor will be living in the Diderot mansion because there’s not enough space in the old dower house for all four of them. I think this is going to be the hurricane party book, which I am kind of reluctant to write because the last time I decided to write that story was right before Katrina. But I am going to start figuring that one out a bit, see where we can go with it. I do think a crime story set during an evacuation, with the city emptied, is an interesting idea, so I’ll probably write some free form brainstorming the way I always do. I’m kind of excited about writing another Scotty book this year.

There are also some short stories I want to get under control and finished and submitted.

But once I finish this, I am going to my chair with my journal and Tara’s book, so I can hopefully get that done today. I also have chores to get done–the kitchen is sliding again–and here’s hoping for a productive Sunday, okay? Have a great one–I may be back later.

State of Independence

Up ridiculously early for PT this morning, but it’s fine, I suppose. I am awake, not foggy headed, nor does my body feel tired, so that’s a win of sorts. I’m glad I survived my first full week of work this year, only to have another three day weekend on deck. I’m falling behind; Sparky was feeling especially needy last night and was in need of cuddles. I started a load of laundry before I sat down to let him get comfortable and reassure him he wasn’t abandoned–a nightly occurrence lately–and then I started getting caught up on Real Housewives and this week’s Percy Jackson and before I knew it, it was time for bed and I didn’t finish the laundry, empty the dishwasher, or do much of anything last night, which felt terribly wrong on every level. But it was okay, I suppose. I’m trying not to be too hard on myself for not getting more done in the evenings–trying to be not so hard on myself in general in this new year.

Nick Saban retired yesterday, as probably the most successful college football coach of all time. It’s going to be weird going into the next season without him at the helm at Alabama. I hated that he came back to college football by going there–it was such a massive betrayal of LSU, where he was from 2000-2004, rebuilding the program and bringing it back to glory, along with a national title–which made Alabama a big hurdle to get past every year. It was frustrating to lose to them almost every year, but I also got over my anger at him and he won back my respect. He seems like a good guy for the most part, and his players loved him and performed for him in a way few coaches ever accomplish. He won seven national titles (including his first, at LSU in 2003), and there were only a few seasons (2007, 2010, 2013, 2019) that Alabama was out of the national picture at the end of the regular season, which is pretty impressive. They won two national titles without winning the conference! I wonder who will take his place? Alabama is a brand, and their fans don’t tolerate not winning, so there’s a lot of pressure that comes with the gig; kind of like when Bear Bryant retired back in 1982. Between the Bear and Saban the Tide only won the national title once. I appreciate Saban’s legacy, and can’t help but wonder if Alabama will remain at the top of the SEC, or whether it’s time for a run by another school–LSU, Mississippi, Georgia, Texas, Oklahoma–to have a strong run like Florida’s from 2005-2012.

My guess is he didn’t want to deal with the new play-off system and really didn’t like some of the other changes happening in the sport, and realized he didn’t have to.

It’s also cold here this morning, and next week it’s apparently going to be even colder. Huzzah, he typed sarcastically. But it’s much better in the apartment now than it used to be; it’s amazing how life-changing the new system (which isn’t all that new anymore) has made in the winter months around here. It’s also been great being able to wear my Fitbit again now that the brace is gone, and now I can track just how well I’ve been sleeping every night; I used to be lucky to get a sleep score over 75 more than once a week; now my lowest sleep score since strapping it back to my wrist was 78, and the others were all over 80, which used to be a very rare happenstance. It’s so nice to sleep deeply and well on a regular basis; it’s amazing what a difference it makes in quality of life, but I’ve got to stop being so focused on Sparky time when I get home from work and need to do some things first, because if I give in to him I’m down for the night.

I also hope to be productive this weekend. I have a lot of shit to get done, and lots of housework to do. But I am starting to feel creative again, which is terrific, and my mind feels clearer than it has in years; maybe that means I’ll do better work? But then again, the work I’ve been producing over the last six years has been my best, I think, and I would like to keep getting better. I really need to get that copy edit of Jackson Square Jazz done so I can get it back in print, and I want to get this short story collection finished, and…and…and…there’s so much that I have on hand that is unfinished! But I think I’ve finally figured out the problem with one short story, figured out how to do another that I’ve been stuck on, and so yeah, these are all good things, right?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Perhaps will be back later, or else it won’t be until tomorrow. Have a great Thursday, Constant Reader!

Stand or Fall

Twelfth Night, and I just added a king cake to my grocery list. Huzzah!

In a moment, I’ll be getting cleaned up and going to see my surgeon to get my stitches removed and hopefully losing the brace for good. After that, I am making a grocery run before returning to the safety of the Lost Apartment for the rest of the weekend. I didn’t ger as much done yesterday as I would have liked; after completing my work-at-home duties yesterday and the laundry I kind of repaired to the easy chair and just kind of sat there watching television until it was time for bed. I was tired from PT yesterday morning, and I kind of needed the rest. I did watch LSU Gymnastics triumph over Ohio State, which was a lovely opening to the season, and then was just kind of a cat bed for the rest of the evening before I finally went to bed. I slept well, too. Paul had an appointment yesterday afternoon in Uptown, and brought home a pizza from The Midway on Freret, and it was probably one of the best pizzas I’ve had in years. A very pleasant surprise treat, as it were. Plus, it’s really nice to be able to eat pizza again. I always forget about the plethora of good places to eat that has developed on Freret Street uptown, past Napoleon; and I really do need to be better about experiencing the city and writing about it. I’m already thinking about the next Scotty, with him and the boys temporarily housed in the Diderot carriage house in the Garden District.

I’m not sure what my plans are for after I get home this morning. I do have a to-do list that I need to work through as well as update, and if I do nothing other than organize and file, well, that will be a huge improvement. I know I’ll be able to start reading the new Tara Laskowski, which is exciting–big fan here–and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to get some writing done as well. Stranger things have happened, after all.

It rained pretty hard yesterday, starting in the afternoon and continuing to just come down like a waterfall through the evening. It was a street flooding kind of rain, which is probably the best way to describe it, and of course, coupled with the cold it made me lethargic. It’s sunny but cold this morning, and soon I’ll have to start getting cleaned up and ready to head out for my appointment. I do feel good and rested this morning and awake, which is always a good sign. I do know I am going to make something in the slow cooker either today or tomorrow; it will depend I suppose on how I feel when I get home from everything and put the groceries away. But the kitchen/workspace definitely needs some work before I do anything this morning. There’s dishes to clean and a dishwasher to empty, and I need to clean out the refrigerator and maybe organize it a little better. Heavy sigh. I never have seemed able to get caught up on everything that needs catching up on, you know? Maybe this weekend will be the time…

You have no idea how badly I want to ditch this brace, Constant Reader.

And on that note, I should start getting ready for the appointment. I may be back later, one never knows, and if not, have a lovely Saturday.

Space Age Love Song

Work at home Friday, and I have PT in a little while. Tomorrow I finally see my surgeon again, and here’s hoping that the brace will be a thing of history tomorrow, so I can throw it in the trash and be done with it once and for all.

One can dream, at any rate.

Yesterday I started feeling low energy in the late afternoon before I came home, and was a bit on the tired side once I did get into the apartment. I did do a load of laundry before settling in for Real Housewives Ultimate Girls’ Trip: Legacy, which Paul came home during and we watched this week’s Reacher as well as Monarch: Legacy of Monsters. I went to bed shortly after that, which was nice and once again I slept well. I didn’t really want to get up this morning, which means it must have gotten really cold last night. It’s about fifty outside now. I am going to run a couple of errands after my PT this morning before returning home for work-at-home duties and other chores. Next weekend we do get a three day weekend again, which will be nice, and I am hoping to get some things done this weekend. I have my surgeon tomorrow morning, and will probably make a grocery run immediately thereafter. I’ve also picked out Tara Laskowski’s latest, The Weekend Retreat, as my next read, so I am looking forward to getting started on that later today. I loved her first two novels, and I am sure I will enjoy this new one.

And here’s hoping the weekend will be a productive one, you know? The kitchen is finally starting to look less like a disaster area and more like a comfortable work space again, for the first time in months. I plan on doing the floors at last (and finding out how Sparky feels about vacuum cleaners; he does not like the hand vac at all), which will make a difference, and I also need to start looking at ways to make my eating habits more healthy. (While the goal is to eat healthier, anything that’s already in the cabinets or the fridge is being grandfathered in rather than wasted, which seems logical and fair to me.) I’ve lost around twenty pounds, give or take, and my stomach is noticeably flatter than it was several months ago. Why give up on that progress? My goal weight for 2024 is 200; I am already down to 205. I also need to be more physically active before I return to the gym once all the healing and PT is over with, which will make returning to the gym that much easier.

I also saw a call for submissions yesterday that looked like something I may have something on hand that would be perfect for; I’ll of course do more looking into it and then I need to decide which story would work best and revise and reedit and rewrite accordingly. I know there’s one other that’s coming up, and maybe working on a short story tonight before the gymnastics airs will help kickstart me into getting truly back into the swing of writing again. I do enjoy writing short stories, and one thing I think I may do this weekend is also looking to see how much work the next short story collection needs before I can turn it in. Oh, there are so many things in the files that aren’t finished…maybe I should focus on getting everything finished that’s in progress before starting anything new? I don’t know. I’m no better at figuring any of this out than I was back when I was getting started over twenty years ago…

And on that note, I am going to get ready for PT. I may be back later, one never knows.

You’ve Got Another Thing Coming

And now it’s Thursday, the last day in the office for me this week, and I somehow made it through the entire week of going into the office without being tired by the end. The jury of course is still out about today–I’ll have to see how I feel at the end of the day, or mid-afternoon, of course–but I am very pleased to be awake and feeling rested this morning. I took it easy when I got home from work yesterday, spending some quality playtime with Sparky and watching some Real Housewives–my God, the Salt Lake City finale was some epic reality television–and couldn’t decide what to read next. I am leaning towards R. F. Kuang’s Yellowface (because I love me some publishing noir about authors behaving badly), but there are others in the running as well (most notably Tara Laskowski’s The Weekend Retreat). Tonight when I get home from work I will decide; I am coming home straight from work again; no need to run errands on the cusp of the weekend. I also need to get back to writing, and the sooner the better. I have high hopes for this weekend because it appears as though I won’t be tired going into the weekend, and the kitchen isn’t nearly as big a mess as it usually is on Thursdays–so if I can get the dishes handled tonight, I’ll be way ahead of things when I get home from PT tomorrow morning. I am seeing Dr. O’Brien at last on Saturday, so I am hoping to kiss the brace goodbye once and for all. LSU Gymnastics also has their first meet on Friday night, which is always fun to follow. The team is really loaded this year, too. GEAUX TIGERS!

I also want to get to the library sale this weekend to donate some books, too. Maybe I can spend some time tonight and tomorrow night pruning out more books. The laundry room is nearly under control again, but there are still even more books that can go.

And I should really started copy-editing Jackson Square Jazz so I can finally get that ebook up and available for readers. I am losing money every day that book isn’t available, and I might be able to run a promo when it becomes available (I am thinking of offering Bourbon Street Blues for free and Jackson Square Jazz for $1.99 for about a month or so). I mean, it makes sense: Scotty turns 21 this year, so I should be promoting the hell out of the Scotty series this year–and should really write another to get out this year, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve always focused more on writing the books than promoting them; I only have so much bandwidth, and writing/editing generally uses up the megabytes in my brain that have to do with writing/publishing. I’ve also been very shy about promo, too–which was the anxiety bedeviling me. Maybe now that I am on the right medications, that won’t be a problem going forward. It’s already helped me with some aspects of doing public stuff; so maybe my nervous aversion to doing things in public has become a thing of the past? Worth a try, at any rate, right?

I also need to work on the procrastination thing I’ve been dealing with for the majority of my life. Why do I always feel the need to wait until the last minute for everything? Why will I always goof off now instead of doing the things I need to do so I can goof off later? This would always immediately play into my anxiety, and always made my stress levels go off the charts. Was that what drove me to get so much done? Stress and anxiety and the pressure I used to put on myself? Will I be able to get as much done in the future now that the anxiety is medically handled? It does make me a bit worried, but I am sure I’ll get back on that horse when I need to.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in again later, most likely.