Your Mama Don’t Dance

Well, Monday has rolled around again after a lovely, restful weekend, and I am hopeful that this week–the tail end of July and the beginning of August–will be lovely and productive.

Yesterday I managed to have the hole in the page open and finished off Chapter Nineteen–which, once I started, was much easier than I’d thought it would be, and I was also able to get Chapter Twenty set up at the end of that chapter. I’m also, as I go into the final act, aware of things that I need to set up earlier in the manuscript; which is lovely, even though this is wrong way around; I should have known all this when I was writing it, which is my usual way of doing things. (Although, if I am being completely honest, the Kansas book wasn’t written this way, and I only figured out how to end Royal Street Reveillon while I was writing it; this is a trend I don’t like and needs to end now. Perhaps when I start writing Chlorine, things will follow the more traditional Greg writing path.)

Speaking of Chlorine, I did manage to find my copy of Tab Hunter’s memoir, Tab Hunter Confidential: The Making of a Movie Star. I met Tab Hunter years ago, at a Publishing Triangle party in New York (he was with Joyce Dewitt–yes, the one from Three’s Company, and she was absolutely charming), and he was still incredibly handsome and a very nice man. He eventually came to the Tennessee Williams Festival (yes, I played Good Husband and asked him if he would do it, got his manager’s card, and passed that along to Paul), and was again, just as handsome and charming as ever. We have a signed copy of the book, but I’ve never read it–it’s been in the TBR pile for over a decade–and I am delighted now to have a work-related excuse to read it, along with any number of other Hollywood histories and books about show business and celebrities from the 1950’s. (Must find biographies of Rock Hudson, Montgomery Clift, and Anthony Perkins…and George Cukor, for that matter.) It’s going to be ever so much fun to submerge myself in post-war Hollywood and Los Angeles.

Steph Cha’s novel Your House Will Pay also continues to fascinate, entertain, and enthrall. It’s quite excellent, and I am savoring the pages, the chapters, the development of the parallel stories of the two families tied together by a trauma in the past. It’s also incredibly immersive; the characters are so very terribly real, as is the world they inhabit. It’s turning out to be so much more than I thought it was going to be–and I was excited for what I thought it would be–so it’s even more of a gift than I originally thought it was going to be.

We are also getting drawn in more to the Prime series The Boys, which is also, like the Cha novel, turning out to be so much more than I’d anticipated. It’s darker, for one thing, and kind of exceptional in showing how powerful a single, average human being actually can be, without the assistance of extra-special powers of some kind. It’s also a much more complex examination of how extraordinarily gifted humans would be monetized, branded, and image controlled–very similar to the Hollywood period I am going to be immersing myself in shortly. Yay! It’s a fascinating period, and definitely one I want to know a lot more about.

And on that note, tis time to get back to the spice mines.

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Love to Love You Baby

Paul’s flight was delayed a bit, but he got home last night just after nine pm and all is right in the Lost Apartment. I have ceased to exist to Scooter except as a conduit for treats, food or water–he hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet this morning to demand food! I also woke up this morning feeling much much better than I have in days, which means I think I should be able to return to work tomorrow. Huzzah!

I’m sure it’s an utter coincidence that Paul’s return home cured me.

Yesterday I ran some errands over to the West Bank that simply couldn’t be put off until next weekend–and, I figured, it was better to try to get it over and done with while still feeling slightly unwell than wait until today when I might have relapsed–and so I have Paul’s birthday present ready to give to him when he wakes up, for yes, today is Paul’s birthday. He was honored with the Leadership Award from the Publishing Triangle on Thursday and today is his birthday, so he’s had quite a lovely long weekend of it. I also spent some time reading Kellye Garrett’s delightfully fun Hollywood Homicide yesterday, while I also did some odds and ends cleaning up around here. I still have some cleaning to do today, and I want to get that pesky chapter written once and for all today so I can move on to the next and try to get this entire pesky thing finished soon enough. I am behind, of course, as I always seem to be, but I am hoping/hopeful that I can get this first draft finished by the 15th of May. That’s basically two weeks, and there’s absolutely no reason I cannot be finished by then other than sheer, utter laziness.

Everyone who thinks I won’t be done by the 15th, raise your hand.

Bitches.

And so I shall spend this morning cleaning and working on the WIP. I suspect Paul, who was exhausted when he got home last night, will sleep till about noon–if not longer, which gives me a free morning to get all of this done. I am planning on going to the gym (I know, right?) around noonish/one, to get started again with my regular workouts and getting my body back into shape. We’ll see how it goes, but that is my plan at this moment–although there’s also a stray thought that I should go now, this morning, to get it over with and get my day kick-started, but no, I think I’ll spend the morning doing precisely what I said I was going to spend the morning doing. I need to get that fucking chapter finished, and maybe even get started on Chapter Five while I have Word open.

I also want to start doing something with all these short stories I have just lying around here in one form or another. Maybe after the gym I can read some of them, or something. They aren’t doing me any good sitting in my computer as files, that’s for certain.

And I also need to steel myself for tonight’s Game of Thrones. It’s certainly going to be a bloodbath, with characters whose lives I’ve been following since the very first season an eon ago certain to die tonight. Perhaps I should take a Xanax before watching? I also want to read some more of Kellye’s book, so I can move on to Jamie Mason’s The Hidden Things, which is up next in queue….although I am very tempted by Marlon James’ latest, an epic fantasy set in Africa which is being called “an African Game of Thrones“, although I am certain that’s simply a marketing gimmick to try to appeal to George R. R. Martin’s fans, and fans of the show. Marlon is a terrific writer, and he won the Mann Booker a few years ago for his A Brief History of Seven Killings, which I’ve not read, but have wanted to for quite some time. My TBR queue is quite something, I have to say, and I am really looking forward to reading all the books in it at some point.

At some point.

There will never be enough time, will there, to read everything I want to read and write everything I want to write. I think that’s why I get so caught up in falling behind and the sense of time slipping through my fingers, which gets more intense the more I age, which is, of course, every fucking day.

And now back to the spice mines, my friends. It’s already ten and I’ve gotten nothing done other than writing this.

And that shall not stand.

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Love Rollercoaster

Oh, Game of Thrones. What a lovely, lovely episode last night. I think I cried two or three times…and then of course, as it slowly began to dawn on me that we are getting all this closure because so many of my favorite characters are going to mostly likely die next week.

Gah. And of course, I cannot wait.

Game of Thrones, for all of its problematic scenes and subplots (remember Jamie raping Cersei over the corpse of their dead son?), has been such an incredibly enjoyable ride since that first episode all those many years ago; when the royal party marched into Winterfell and all the pieces on the chessboard were put into place (mostly by Littlefinger, as we were to gradually find out over the years) I had absolutely no clue nor idea how this wild, crazy, polyglot quilt of a story with layers and levels and still more layers was going to play out. We’ve watched the children–Bran, Sansa, Arya–grow from children into young adults. The character development and story arcs they came from all carefully done and planned; who would have ever thought that, as I watched Jamie push Bran out the window at the end of episode one, that he would become one of my favorite characters? Or that Theon’s betrayal of the Starks would lead to his unending humiliations and finally, despite his mutilation, becoming a man and a true knight of the north? Spoiled, silly Sansa becoming the smartest woman in Westeros?

Next week is going to be deeply, deeply emotional for those of us who watch and love the show. Paul and I came to the show late; back in the day, we got the DISCS from Netflix; as we caught up on the show we eventually decided it was worth paying for HBO in order to watch as it aired live; I think this might have been Season Three; we’d just finished watching Season 2 and decided we couldn’t wait until it was released to Netflix…and despite the shocks and heartbreaks, it’s been quite a ride. I finally read the first book in the series over Thanksgiving last year; I think I may read the second over Thanksgiving this year; perhaps it will become a holiday treat for myself each year.

Although there are still only four books.

Yesterday was a good day; I didn’t feel particularly motivated to do any writing–it’s amazing how easy it is to talk myself out of writing–but I am just getting warmed up again these days and should soon be back in the saddle again, writing every day and creating. I managed to get myself organized yesterday, and we also watched Crazy Rich Asians on HBO in the late afternoon, and enjoyed the hell out of it. I have some thoughts about this movie as well, but I want to let them percolate for a day or so before talking about it. But I enjoyed the movie very much, even cried a bit in places, and loved see romantic comedy tropes turned on their ears while being used. I also read some more of Alison Gaylin’s superb Never Look Back, which is shaping up to be her best novel thus far….which is saying quite a bit (she’s been nominated for the Edgar four times). I also have sort of figured out all the things I need to get done this week–I even made a list–and I organized computer files. I cleaned the kitchen and went to the grocery store. I filed and made notes and over all had a highly productive, if non-writing, day. It was a lovely three day weekend and I do feel rested this Monday morning, even though I would much prefer to have remained in bed.

Paul leaves early Wednesday morning for New York; he’s being honored by the Publishing Triangle so he is heading up there for the ceremony on Thursday and flying back here on Saturday afternoon, so I will have the Lost Apartment to myself for a few days. Hopefully I can use that time to get more things done and more organized and maybe even clean the upstairs? Madness, I know, but…we shall see. Scooter will be his usual needy self but at least I only have to work half-days both Thursday and Friday.

Huzzah?

And now back to the spice mines. Happy Monday, all.


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