Tag: Sparky

My Heart Is an Open Book

Well, yesterday was a pretty good day overall, I think. I managed to get some writing done (about a thousand or so words, give or take) which felt amazing, if too little; and of course I went to PT after work and it actually felt good. I think the working out after therapy is going to actually take hold this time? Of course, it remains to be seen what else life is going to throw at me in the meantime, but I feel pretty good about things, overall. After I finish this book I’m writing I may step away for the rest of the year and just live for a while? I’ll still write, and I want to be clear that I am thinking in terms of time off from deadlines, really. It would be nice to finish all these unfinished things I have lying around here, and I’d also like to clean out the physical files at some point in the near future. Operation Declutter is still working, but it’s an ongoing process. I am about to put a moratorium on new books, too, unless it’s a must-read book by a friend. I really need to make more progress on getting through the mountainous TBR stack without consistently adding to it, over and over. Just this week I added Angela Crook’s Hurt Mountain and Amina Akhtar’s Almost Surely Dead and Simone St. George’s Murder Road. The question of what to read next also has not yet been answered, so it may wind up being a reread, which is actually counterproductive–but something that breaks down the wall and gets me reading every day again for pleasure would be pretty fucking fantastic.

My short story that I am writing is starting to take shape, even if my gears have rusted and need to be oiled before I can really get to work on writing again. I like what I am doing with this story–which is more horror/Gothic suspense more than anything else, really, and it’s been a really long time since I finished a story. “When I Die” still needs to be significantly edited and revised, as do so many other things. I need to get working on the book again–I came up with a great name for the Miss Queer Utah queen, but alas, forgot it already. I am actually kind of getting excited this morning to write this book. I saw a news item on social media that DeSantis’ anti-gay legislation essentially got ended by a court decision yesterday–I’ve not read the entire article yet, but it was a “settlement”, which makes it more interesting because surely that would make it a civil case, rather than a criminal one? But anything that gets Rhonda Santis’ panties in a bunch, as well as a massive defeat for his hate-filled agenda (your daily reminder, Moms for Liberty, that real patriots HATE you and your hate agenda; have fun in hell, skanks), will always make me very very happy. I also saw that the West Virginia legislature, under pressure from constituents, dropped (or allowed to die) 21 anti-queer bills.

As Winston Churchill said, “You can always count on Americans to do the right thing–after they’ve exhausted every other possibility.”

I didn’t sleep through the entire night, but woke up a couple of times but in both instances was able to fall back asleep and get some more needed rest, which was awesome. I actually woke up this morning feeling awake rather than foggy, which is simply marvelous to contemplate. Paul was working on a grant last night, so we only got to catch up on this week’s Abbott Elementary, and soon my widowhood will end when the festivals do next weekend (not this weekend) and a dear friend is coming to town this weekend, and I hope to meet her for drinks and a good gossipy catch up. I’ve also learned this morning that when the alarm goes off the first time and Sparky makes his appearance on my pillow, to just get up and feed him…because once he’s eaten, he’ll get back into the bed and cuddle like a sweet purr-kitty, which is lovely. I really have fallen completely in love with this crazy kitty, which makes losing Scooter ever so much easier. Losing him made rescuing Sparky possible, and I imagine I will always have a cat for the rest of my life, maybe even a bonded pair at some point after Sparky goes–assuming, of course, that I will outlive Sparky.

Some more things that I ordered arrived yesterday after I picked up the mail, so I’ll have to swing by there again this afternoon, which is fine. I have to get gas, too, so it makes sense to swing uptown, come back downtown via Tchoupitoulas, and then the Shell on Jackson Avenue on the way home. Tomorrow is also payday, which is lovely–pay-the-bills day, at any rate–and then I need to start prepping for my Saints and Sinners panel. There’s always something to do, isn’t there? I also need to stop by Physiofit and pay my bill, too. I got another camera ticket yesterday, which is super-annoying–but it gave me an idea for a story or a subplot for a Scotty book, so that’s a good thing, right?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I will most likely be back again later.

Quiet Village

Sunday morning and Daylight Savings Time begins, which means it’s an hour later than my body thinks it is, and that’s fine. I would imagine that the real brick wall as far as the time change is concerned is going to be hit tomorrow morning when I get up for work. But there are worse things, after all; there are always worse things. But yesterday was a pretty decent day, overall. I got some things done, not nearly enough, and had my ZOOM panel for Murderous March around one thirty my time; ably moderated by Richie Narvaez, it was quite a lot of fun, but I am never sure how I am coming across when it’s ZOOM–no audience reactions to play off–so I will hope that it all went well and the audience enjoyed it as much as I did. I ordered a pizza from U Pizza (I’d been a-hankering for one all week, frankly) for dinner, and spent most of the day finishing reading The Little Wax Doll, rereading other books and stories in progress, before finally settling in to watch a couple of episodes of The Tourist–but I kept falling asleep (from being tired, nothing to do with boredom, because the show is bizarre and twisty and hilarious and kind of like a Coen Brothers movie, so clearly I am loving the show), and finally went to bed around ten. I slept very well, too. As for today, there’s still a lot I need to get done, writing wise, and at some point I have to make groceries today, too. The Oscars are tonight, but I’m not terribly interested in them, to be honest.

I also tried watching Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, but shut it off after about fifteen minutes. I love Jason Momoa, but not THAT much.

I did find the missing printer ink cartridges, by the way. I guess I was looking right at it all along and not seeing it. Heavy sigh.

Sparky is feeling rambunctious this morning, and has already gashed my right index finger with one of his talons. But this helped remind me that I took his hanging toy down yesterday so it wasn’t on camera, and didn’t put it back up. Problem solved, and now he’s jumping at it, and all’s well in the Lost Apartment. Big Kitten Energy. He’s lucky he’s so sweet and adorable, honestly.

But it looks to be a beautiful day outside already, which is great, and hopefully this good mood will last as long as my energy does. I’d like to be able to get a lot done today, and get prepared for the week. A friend will be in town this weekend, which is very exciting as I’ve not seen her in a very long time, which will be so delightful. I do miss my friends.

This week the news broke that Carol Gelderman had died. Carol, a writer and professor at UNO, was an absolute delight. I didn’t know her very well, but she was a frequent panelist at the Tennessee Williams Festival, and so I’d run into her quite a lot. Every time, she would give me a dazzling smile, shove her right hand at me and say “Hi, I’m Carol Gelderman” and I would smile and say “Lovely to see you again, Carol” and she’d make a wonderful “pshaw” noise and say, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me” and give me a big hug, and we’d laugh and laugh. She also always had a flask in her purse. Check out her biography of Mary McCarthy sometime. It’s very sad that I’ll never laugh with her at a Festival party again. RIP, Carol, and thanks for the great memories.

You’ll probably not recognize me should there be an afterlife, either, Carol, and I hope that is the case.

And on that sad note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Hope your Sunday is lovely, Constant Reader, and I may be back later. One never does know, you know.

Come Softly to Me

Sunday morning and as predicted, I didn’t get nearly as much done yesterday as I wanted to, but it was mostly about time more than anything else. I picked up the mail and stopped by Fresh Market, but then once I got home…well, there were chores still to be done (still have some more to do this morning) and I never did get around to writing anything besides blog entries yesterday, like a very bad Gregalicious. Today I have no choice, I have to write today…and I also have to drive out to the Apple Store in Metairie, and make groceries, both of which will be tiring. (I knew I’d regret putting that chore off until today, but at least it’s sunny out today; I think it’s going to be a rather lovely day out there.)

Sparky is always a problem for sitting at the computer as he always wants to sit in my chair–he will hang out and be obnoxious (right now he’s sprawled across the desk, his flicking tail brushing the keyboard as he knocks other things off…) and then jump into the chair the minute I get up for more coffee or anything, really. Heavy sigh, the joys of Big Spoiled Kitten Energy.

I did manage to watch Christopher and His Kind yesterday, which is Isherwood’s memoir about his life in Berlin during the rise of the Nazis, and it much more explicit than Isherwood’s earlier fictions about Berlin. During that “Staged Right” about Cabaret I watched the other night, he wrote it in reaction to the movie, to leave the record straight (as it were) about himself and his life; he hated that Cabaret made Brian/Christopher into a bisexual and that Sally was played by Liza Minnelli, when the actual Sally was marginally talented at best. It was an interesting film, but Christopher himself really came across as a bit of an asshole. There was also a lot of explicit sex, and there’s no question in watching this film about what his sexuality was, for sure. Matt Smith is simply stunningly beautiful, and Alexander Draymon as Caspar is just too beautiful for words. The two stories (Cabaret and Christopher and His Kind) are similar to each other, but I’m not really sure if a watcher didn’t know that both came from the same source, those similarities are simply base facts the story grew out of, and you might not even recognize them as the same story. I may need to revisit the books sometime when I have more time…as I recognize that a lot of the revisiting of fiction I talk about is probably never going to happen. But as always, I find rereading something as an easy way to shake off the not-reading mode I’ve been in for so long. We also watched the new BBC adaptation of Agatha Christie’s Murder is Easy yesterday, which we quite enjoyed…although I am waiting for the racists to complain since they cast a Black man in the lead.

So I started rereading Norah Lofts’ The Little Wax Doll yesterday, of which I remember very little of my original read back in junior high school (I read her novels about queens and royal women before moving on to her other novels, which was very definitely an eclectic mix), and find myself enjoying it a lot more than I did when I was twelve–I did enjoy it, but I am certainly seeing it differently some fifty years later. As a kid, I just read Miss Mayfield as a lonely spinster who spent most of her life working in Africa in her colonial “white savior” role with her best friend, who hopes to save enough money to buy a little place she and her “best friend” could retired to; now it’s screaming lesbians at me. The book was originally published in 1960, and of course there are the queer deniers who like to think we never existed in the world before Stonewall. The phenomenon of spinsters sharing a home was just a fact of life, and the British never really inquired much further than that–the British cold politeness.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. There’s a lot to get done today and I am feeling like I will be able to make some significant progress today. Wish me luck, and I may be back later. Happy Sunday, Constant Reader!

My Sharona

Wedesday pay-the-bills day, after a very good night’s sleep and this is the first time this week I’ve awakened feeling…awake, if that makes sense. I had a decent day at work yesterday, ran errands on the way home from work (will be doing that again tonight), and then got home, feeling inside out and tired. Sparky was feeling needy after being home alone all day, so I decided to just relax in my chair and let him cuddle up to me and go to sleep, which was pretty much how we spent the rest of the evening, with the occasional getting up for the bathroom or something to drink. We watched a documentary on Youtube about the backstory of Cabaret, which was interesting, from Isherwood’s Berlin Stories1 to the stage and film adaptation as I Am a Camera, and then finally stage and screen versions of Cabaret, along with the revivals. It was interesting; I knew there were a lot of differences between the play and the film, and that later revivals often used songs that were original to the film. That sort of thing always interests me. I spent most of the rest of the night reading news reports, trying to get back on top of what is going on in the world while I’ve been focusing on my recovery and getting through the days productively, and I have to say it was horrifying, absolutely horrifying. I’ve been aware of everything going on, of course, it’s just not something I’ve allowed myself to really think about and/or through until last evening.

The world is indeed in terrible shape.

My arm feels fatigued this morning, too, from Monday’s night’s PT. The muscles in my left arm were twitching/spasming a bit last night, but they did the same thing on Sunday. I don’t think it’s a big deal or anything that needs to be reported at any time before I have PT on Friday, when I can talk to my actual physical therapist about it, but again–I think that’s just a natural reaction to working hard, which the arm is definitely not completely used to yet. I still feel good about my progress, and I am trying valiantly to resist frustration at not being fully recovered yet. But hell, I’ve made it this far already so why complain?

NARRATOR VOICE: He can always complain.

I have to say, now that I made my decision about Bouchercon and posted about it, I feel a lot more relaxed and less anxious about the whole thing–and really, that should tell me something: if I am feeling anxious about something, or dismiss it when I think about it so it won’t stress me out, that should be when I decide not to attend or do something. It would definitely make my life easier. I still have a ton of entries in the draft folder I need to eventually do something with, but hopefully tonight when I get home I will feel like getting some work done and Sparky won’t be needy–since I cannot seem to resist his wiles ever. He’s just so sweet (when he isn’t being a terror).

And so, here I am on the midway point of my work week. Things appear to be picking up, after the slow start to everything this week. The apartment still has chores that need to be done–laundry and dishes and so forth–and yesterday’s mail had a shower caddy that I ordered; one that goes over the shower head. I bought one a while ago–and every time I got in the shower I’d think I need to get one that goes over the shower head because the one I got doesn’t fit there and is a pain in the ass, but I would never remember to buy and/or order one that works better. Of course, assembly was required (and a Phillips head screwdriver! What is this madness?) and I just wasn’t there last night to do it properly, plus Sparky was trying to knock everything off the counter and I just said fuck it and shoved everything back in the box to do at another time. I also got my new, magnetic measuring spoons yesterday, which means they will either stick together when not in use or will stick to the refrigerator or the oven hood. Huzzah!

And as always when I am feeling alive and energetic in the middle of the week, I am already thinking about all the things I can get done over the weekend. WHY do I always think I can/will do more than I wind up doing? I think this is part of the constant self-defeating thing that I do; I think I will be able to do more than usual but inevitably will wind up not doing it all so I can feel like I’ve failed and thus can self-reproach, which is really not the best way to live one’s life.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. There are, after all, bills to be paid. I may be back later, one can never be entirely certain. Have a lovely Wednesday at any rate!

  1. I am thinking it may be time to revisit Isherwood; and I don’t think I’ve read Christopher and His Kind, which would be a great place to start. ↩︎

Could It Be Forever?

Work-at-home Friday, and what a full day I have in front of me. I have work at home duties to get done, a telephone appointment, and an on-line team meeting today. After I am done with my work duties, I get to head over to the gym to work out on my own for the first time since 2022 (!!!), and at some point we’ll be doing a Costco run. Yesterday was a very good day; it was the first time in years that I woke up feeling rested and awake and good to go–and it lasted all day. I wasn’t tired when I got home, despite picking up the mail and making groceries. I hung out with Sparky, watched this week’s episode of Feud, and made notes for writing to come. I also typed up notes for other stories, so I could create computer files. Paul got home in time for me to spend a little time with him before going to bed, and I slept very well. Apparently, overnight Sparky figured out how to get on top of my dresser and started knocking everything off, so all my stuff was put inside a drawer. Sigh. He really is too smart for our own good. He’s lucky he’s both sweet and adorable.

I also have some thoughts about stuff that’s been going on in the world and in my publishing world lately. They aren’t fully formed and ready to be vocalized as of yet, but I figure those thoughts will come together and written about at some point over this weekend to come. This is my first normal weekend after three straight abnormal ones (two weekends of parades followed by a trip to Alabama), so while I am probably vastly over-estimating how much I can or will get done, I am hopeful that I’ll get a lot of it done. I was pleased yesterday to see how much I had gotten done off my to-do list without consulting it, and I am also already feeling alert and awake and no longer tired, either. This was how yesterday went, so here’s hoping that today will be the same: energy and mental acuity all day.

It would be nice to get all these blog entries in draft form finished, too. We shall see. Tomorrow I’ll be taking books and beads out to donate in the morning, swing past the post office most likely afterwards, and then come home to clean and write. I also want to rewatch Saltburn this weekend so I can finish that entry–which is also more of an essay abstract. And I did write some more on my short story “When I Die,” which is getting longer but has finally started getting to the good part. I also have four more “where the idea for this book come from” entries on the Chanse series to finish as well. I also have some other chores around here this morning I need to take care of during breaks–the dishes, some filing, and some laundry. There’s trash to take out, too, and I kind of want to really start making progress on the apartment. I want to get the floors done this weekend and I want to move furniture in the kitchen for cleaning and so forth, too. As I said, I am feeling ambitious about this weekend, and since I am not going into the weekend exhausted and needing rest…I have high hopes.

I also need to get my entry about Carol Goodman’s River Road finished. I really enjoyed it, and if you aren’t reading her books, the good news is it’s never too late to start and there’s a terrific backlist.

And on that note, a load of laundry is finished and needs to be folded, so I am heading into the spice mines for the day. No worries, I am sure I will be back again later, okay? Have a lovely Friday in the meantime!

Back Off Boogaloo

I realized while washing my face this morning that it’s Thursday already, which was an enormously satisfying moment. I was productive last night after work–shocking, right? I came straight home, played with Sparky for a bit, then folded laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, and straightened the kitchen up a bit. It’s always nice to come down to clean counters and a kitchen that doesn’t look like a natural disaster went through. I also slept really well and don’t feel groggy this morning (a little when I first got up, but my brain cleared very quickly). I’m also a bit excited this morning because I also did some decent writing work yesterday. Yay! Not many words were written, but a lot of figuring things out for these stories that hopefully I will finish tonight or tomorrow so I can move on to something else. I am really looking forward to this weekend, I must admit, and all the writing and cleaning to come.

I’ve also been ordering things for the house that hopefully will make things more organized and efficient around here. I got a shoe rack for the bedroom, a rolling cart to replace the little table next to my desk (with the intent of emptying some drawers to make more room for things), and several other things, too. I still need to order blinds for the kitchen and air filters, too.

What an exciting life I lead.

But it’s that very simplicity, that minutiae, that makes me feel like I am living my life again. I’m no longer going home from work, collapsing into my easy chair, and mindlessly letting Youtube videos play on continuously while I doom scroll through social media on my iPad, or dipping into a nonfiction ebook there. I’m beginning to get excited to be writing again, and realized, yet again, what a monumentally shit year 2023 was. I realized this morning that it really did start with me injuring my arm–which kept me out of the gym for well over a year now, and that snowballed my emotional state and life stability. Then came Mom, and yeah, it never really did get better over the course of the year….and of course the surgery was the final derailment. Creativity is overflowing my brain again, and I am trying to make sufficient notes and create the proper computer files so that nothing ever gets lost or forgotten ever again. I got so many ideas over the weekend in Alabama, and they’ve still continued coming since I got back, which is great.

I also made a phenomenal sandwich for dinner last night. I am eating somewhat healthier, and am hoping to keep that momentum going as I head back to the gym tomorrow morning in the first time in over a year. YIKES. But I am not going to be doing a whole lot, just focused shoulder/back/arm stuff, and I’ll have to ask my PT guy next Friday about other body parts. It would be hard to do chest or back, but what about legs? Inquiring minds want to know! But I can certainly do crunches, one would think. I am a bit excited about getting back to the gym, in case you couldn’t tell.

Tonight, I am going to pick up the mail and make a few groceries; then I am coming home to empty the dishwasher and do another load, do some more writing, and maybe organize beads and books to donate. I also need to get gas on the way home tonight, heavy heaving sigh. But I do kind of feel like I am starting to get a grasp on my life and entering a new normal period for me. Woo-hoo!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Thursday, Constant Reader, and you never know; I may be back later.

Marshall’s Portable Music Machine

Wednesday morning and the downhill slide into the weekend. Today I have to see my surgeon before I go into the office, which means this might get posted later than my usual. I am awake and feeling pretty good, actually. I am going to the gym to do my physical therapy on my own Friday, which is kind of scary. But I will muddle through somehow, and take my time with it rather than trying to rush through the way I always used to.

I made groceries after work last night and picked up the mail, so I don’t have to pick it up again until the weekend. I am going to be doing a lot, it seems, on Saturday morning. But this is the first free weekend I’ve had that’s normal in a while. I finished watching the Netflix Alexander when I got home, with Sparky asleep in my lap. I folded laundry, too. All in all, a slightly productive night, as I also worked on a short story a bit. I hope to get both of these (one a first draft, the other a revision) by the weekend, so I can work on other things over the weekend. We were super busy at work yesterday; it’ll be a bit slower today but still busier than usual. The post Mardi Gras boost in testing, I suppose.

I’m not sure what project to work on next. I’m actually thinking that this longer story I am writing could close the short story collection…the manuscript itself is sitting at about 72000 words right now, so either story could run long and the book would be finished and can be turned in. This is of course great news; I would also need to write an introduction to it as well, but maybe–just maybe–I could get it turned in by the end of the month, too. I also have to finish the sequel to Death Drop–which means revising what I’ve already written so I am back into Jem’s head and into his life and story again, which is also fine. I feel like I can really do the book justice now more so than any time since the surgery.

I also need to get back on the promotion interstate highway again, too.

But the appointment with my surgeon went well. I don’t have to see him again unless I have pain or something odd going on with my arm again, and I am going to be gradually phasing out the PT now. I should be fully healed by the sixth month (which would be April) but he thinks I’ll be fully healed before then, since everything has progressed so nicely with the healing thus far. I won’t be completely back to absolute normal, most likely, for at least a year. But the strength therapy will be enormously helpful in that; the real curiosity is wondering, when can I start working my chest and back and legs again? I don’t think legs would be too much of an issue, other than lifting the weight plates. I’ll have to ask my therapist next Friday when I see him again. But yay, right? Huzzah for progress! But the weather is also starting to get nice again, so I think it’s time for me to start taking walks regularly again. It’s staying light longer, too. I also need to start stretching at least every other day, too.

And the festivals are nigh, too. Woo-hoo!

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close so I can eat my lunch and answer some emails. May you have a Wednesday that is as awesome as you are , Constant Reader.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away
Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away

You’re welcome for that hellish ear worm.

Well, here it is Tuesday morning and I feel a lot better, more rested, than yesterday. I was extremely tired when I got home after work last night. I didn’t really do much of anything once I was home, other than cuddling with Sparky and watching this week’s Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, which I always enjoy, as well as two more episodes of Alexander on Netflix, which I am enjoying. I was always interested in Alexander when I was growing up–I liked Egyptian, Greek, and Roman history and culture before moving to United States history, then British, and ultimately European. I also watched some documentaries on forgotten kings and queens of Europe. Sparky mostly slept in my lap for much of the evening, and I retired early. PT was rough yesterday morning, but this Friday I get to go to the gym on my own for the first time in well over a year. YIKES. I only have a few exercises to. do there, and I am a little bit excited about going for the first time and getting back into the swing of working out regularly again.

I am starting to feel acclimated back to my life again, and I am also thinking I am feeling more like myself. I’ve been flooded with story ideas over the last few days (Alabama always does that for me, for some reason), solutions to issues in works in progress that I’ve been struggling with, and book ideas. This is, of course, a relief, as I’ve felt kind of stagnant creatively since the surgery. It’s like my brain is finally waking up again, something I was concerned about, obviously–when your identity and most of your life is wrapped around being a writer, the loss of creative energy in my mind is even scarier than falling from a great height or cutting myself (two of my biggest fears). I suppose it would be okay, but I also can’t imagine never writing again.

I actually have thought about it seriously during this time of forced solitude and recovery. Writing and publishing is like a roller coaster ride–filled with ups and downs and frightening hazards to get past. 2023 was obviously a bad year for me, but I did produce two books I am proud of, Death Drop and Mississippi River Mischief. Is it any wonder that I wasn’t able to get much work done after they were finished and proofed and approved? Bouchercon was at the end of August, and when I got back was when I had my teeth done and went on the soft diet–no surprise I was low energy and not able to write very much–and then came the surgery and the recovery. And of course Scooter died last summer…yeesh, what a shitty year, underscored by the grieving for Mom. So, having not really written much after the books went into production, and not really being able to create while I recovered, made me take some stock and wonder if I wanted to keep doing it–the publishing side, anyway. But now that my overactive imagination has been reignited, all those doubts and self-questioning seem like self-pity. Waaah, I’m not Stephen King. So what? Sure, more money would be nice, but it’s not really the be-all end-all of why I do this, anyway. I love writing, I love telling stories, and I love creating characters I genuinely am interested in and want to get to know better.

I feel good this morning. I woke up and didn’t feel fatigued, either. I got a lot of work done at the office yesterday, which was awesome, and tonight when I head home I am making groceries and have some chores to do around the house, too. And…hopefully will get some writing done, too.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, and I’ll check back in with you later.

Alone Again (Naturally)

Monday morning and up too early for PT before work. Heavy sigh. My body aches this morning–my back is especially tight–which means today will be exhausting. It’s a paperwork/admin day anyway–unless I have to cover for someone–and it’s also terribly cold this morning: 41 degrees, to be exact. I collapsed into bed last night somewhere around nine, and was dead to the world in a matter of minutes. It was a good night’s sleep, but I really need to sleep late sometime soon–probably not till this weekend, alas.

I did listen to River Road by Carol Goodman in the car both ways instead of The Drowning Tree, and as always, loved every minute of it. I still had some time left to listen to something, but only had a short time left, so I went ahead and started an Amazon Short by Zakiya Dalila Harris, “His Happy Place”, which was decidedly creepy but also extremely well done. More on both to come, of course, once I’ve gotten back into (what passes for) a normal routine around here. This will probably be a rough, tiring week, but I hope to manage. This weekend I am going to drop off beads and books for donations, and will also hopefully keep working on the apartment.

The coffee is starting to work, which is nice. My brain and body are starting to wake up, which is great. I’m also a bit hungry, so will probably make something to eat before I leave. I have dry noodles at the office to have for lunch, and will take some breakfast snacky things with me. Tomorrow I know we are going to be super-busy in the clinic, which will make for a rough day as well. Fortunately, I enjoy my job! But this weekend will be the hard reset I need, and I just have to make it through this week, which seems to be stretching out far into the distance and is a bit overwhelming to contemplate. I also need to make a grocery list, and today I have to run some errands after I get off work. Tomorrow I’ll make groceries after work, and hopefully I’ll start feeling more settled in. Sparky was a bit stand-offish when I got home yesterday–just mewed at me reproachfully for a while, but after a few hours he forgave me and was very affectionate, obviously having missed me while I was gone. I do kind of feel like our earlier cats were more Paul’s than mine, but Sparky is kind of mine. Of course, I was chair bound for almost three weeks, so he had a place to cuddle and sleep and hang out all day, and now of course no one’s home with him all day. Once the Festivals are over, he’ll be home more and then he and Sparky can bond some more.

So really, my return to normality after Carnival has been pushed back on the calendar because of the trip over the weekend. My word, how my imagination was out of control while driving and staying in Alabama. I remembered stories and ideas I’d forgotten about as well as having more ideas (just what I need, right?) and I also figured out how to finish off my short story collection. I am hoping to get some more stories finished this week and get off to submissions while working and planning my next book. I also have a shit ton of unfinished drafts here I’d like to get done at some point so I can clear out the drafts folder.

I also took a lot of pictures this weekend, to help me describe places when I write about Alabama some more. I also realized that fictionalizing the place where I was born means it doesn’t have to be exactly the same in my work than it is in real life, you know? But that’s also my own stubborn brain trying to make everything correct when it doesn’t have to be, which happens a lot. It’s not like New Orleans, which appears as it is in my work. Corinth County is based on where we’re from, but it’s not the same. I had an idea for something completely new on my way up there; there was an In Cold Blood-kind of slaying there in the late 1960’s; a couple who ran a corner store were brutally killed and robbed, and so when I got home I started looking for information about it on-line (I’ve done this before, but not for a potential writing project; more out of idle curiosity when I was writing Bury Me in Shadows) and interestingly enough, there have been any number of crimes down there over the last forty or so decades; in fact, in one article about another murder I read a quote from someone at a café in town that the county “seems to be cursed”–which I must have read before because that has always been the underlying theme of the fictional county; it’s even in Bury Me in Shadows with people saying “the history of this county is written in blood.” Anyway, I would be interested in writing about that 1967 shooting–either fictionally or as true-crime.

And on that note, I need to get ready for PT and then heading straight to work from there. Have a lovely Monday; I may be back later as one never truly knows.

Reunited

I am off to Alabama later this morning. I have PT in a bit, some errands to run, and then home to get cleaned up and hit the road. Carol Goodman’s The Drowning Tree is cued up on Audible. It should be a nice day for a drive, but it’s going to be cold in Alabama. I’ve not taken a nice drive in almost four months, and it’s always good for firing up the creative synapses and loosening the bindings on my imagination. The worst part of the drive for me is always getting out of New Orleans through the East and I am not a fan of the twin spans to the north shore or getting through Slidell. But once you get on I-55 North, it becomes a very relaxing drive through rural Mississippi. Not much traffic other than around the bigger cities (Hattiesburg, Meridian, Laurel) and then you’re in Alabama. Alabama is also beautiful, and of course it always always always makes my mind wander back to my childhood and stories of the county, histories and legends and gossip and tall tales of a time so different it may as well be an another planet.

I submitted a story yesterday, which felt like progress back into my career again. I finished editing it last night and sent it off without a second thought, logged it into my spreadsheet (which didn’t include my last sale, so I included it as well) and started working on my swamp ghost story again. I made some necessary changes (correcting the wrong geography by using a map) and moved on a bit. I am very pleased with the story, but it’s already very very long so there will be some necessary cuts and revisions in future drafts–but again, it felt good to be writing fiction again. I’ve also been getting things written in my journal–lists of things to get for the apartment as well as what stories to write and submit where; what books I want to work and finish this year and when I’m going to write them. It feels good, frankly, to be creative again.

Paul didn’t make it home last night before I went to bed, which was a pity, but I’ll see him before I leave today; he should be up by then I would hope.

I did watch this week’s episode of Feud last night. The performances are amazing, the show’s production values (particularly in set and costume design), but it’s also not a lot of fun to watch someone on a downward self-destructive trajectory, either, particularly when they’re as talented as Capote was. That seemed to be a lot more common place with writers back in the day–they all seemed to have substance abuse problems, but I suppose if you had to type everything…it would eventually drive you to drink.

I also slept really well last night, too. Sparky woke me up by clobbering me in the face this morning, claws out, so I now have a scratch on my nose and another on my cheek. Perfect timing, right? Heavy heaving sigh. I also have some scratches on my shoulders and chest, from him riding on my shoulders. We really do need to learn how to trim his nails. I also caught him last night trying to get on top of the refrigerator again. He really is a mischievous child. Sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I have to leave for PT in a moment, and I need to start getting everything together for the trip. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and bear with me–I may not be back until Monday.