Tag: The Lincoln Myth

She Blinded Me with Science

Wednesday morning, and I’m groggy, but my new dryer was just installed so it was worth getting up early. I am doing a load of laundry as I type this; trying desperately to get caught up; the laundry never seems to end, does it? It is ridiculous, though, how happy it makes me to have a working dryer again. So bougie.

Yesterday was just plain weird on every level. I am blaming it on the aftermath of the eclipse and Mercury being in retrograde; everything was just whack yesterday. It seemed like every time I turned around something else crazy was happening; just batshit crazy. One lovely thing, though–my co-workers brought in cupcakes for my birthday, which was incredibly sweet. I was touched, and my blackened little heart was warmed.

I am still  chugging away at Steve Berry’s The Lincoln Myth, although the plot is making me uneasy; which I am more than willing to discuss once I’ve finished reading the book. I think I’m into the home stretch; the last quarter or so of the book. It really does move quickly; Berry certainly knows how to pace a thriller.

(I am definitely reading the new Lippman next; can’t wait!) I got started on Chapter Four of Scotty yesterday; a dreaded transition chapter, and God knows how much I hate writing those. The key is to just get it fucking done and move on to the next chapter, where the action will start picking up once again. Crescent City Charade is turning out to be vastly different than I thought it would be when I started writing it–quelle surprise, that happens with every Scotty, doesn’t it?

Heavy heaving sigh.

I also didn’t get nearly as much done yesterday as I had wanted to; primarily because I kept get sidetracked. I originally, for example, had asked for my dryer to be delivered yesterday morning; I got up early only to discover that despite my request it had been scheduled for this morning. You know, when I am supposed to be at work at eleven thirty. The only other option was to reschedule it for Saturday, but on Saturday the delivery window is anytime between eight and five, and cannot be narrowed. So, rather than spending my entire day at home on Saturday waiting, I decided to take the chance that it would come this morning in time for me to make it to work on time. What, I ask are the odds?

Not good, would be my answer.

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

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Electric Avenue

Tuesday, and tomorrow I get my new dryer. Heavy heaving sigh. The laundry is piling up.

But I did manage to write another chapter of the new Scotty yesterday, and got to bring up/set up the moral dilemma he’s going to experience through this book, which was kind of fun. It’s also a massive change-up from the opening of the book, which is also way fun to do. If I can manage a chapter a day, this book’s first draft will be finished in about three more weeks. How cool is that? I also managed to get the second half of the WIP line edited. Don’t get excited; I did the second half first, and now am going to do the first half–but am doing the second quarter first, and the first quarter last. Capisce? It makes sense (to me). I am trying not to get distracted by the story and focus more on the language more than anything else. Once I input all these cuts, I will go through it one last time. I also have one more scene to write, for the end. (No, I haven’t gotten the end right yet. It’s another reason I think I keep futzing with it. But it’s going to be much better now than it was.)

Ah, self-confidence. I wonder what that would be like, to have some?

I started reading Steve Berry’s The Lincoln Myth, which appears to be about the Mormons, the Civil War, and Abraham Lincoln; I am only about seventy pages in. I wanted to read Laura Lippman’s Sunburn next, but I only have an electronic copy and I forgot to charge my iPad, and that battery was deader than Lizzie Borden’s parents. I literally went over to the book case which is filled with books I’ve not read yet, closed my eyes, and reached for one. Hardly scientific, but there you have it. Sometimes you just have to let chance take you by the hand. It’s kind of interesting to read a book by Steve Berry with the Civil War as a plot point–given the latest bad publicity Berry is getting, about a memo he wrote when he was a prosecutor in Georgia, before he turned his attention to writing thrillers with a base in history–but as all Berry novels, it’s a quick read with lots of action. Berry also cross cuts between several different points of view, and you can never be absolutely certain who are the bad guys and who are the good. I am curious as to what the secret hidden away for almost two hundred years in the Utah desert is, what it has to do with the Civil War, and how it can affect the present (which is the basic plot structure of every Berry novel; some long hidden secret could have dangerous ramifications in the present unless Our Hero gets to it first before the Bad Guy), but I do enjoy the suspension of belief and getting on board that train. And he does research the books; there is always some semblance of historical truth buried in the books. (The Columbus Affair taught me a lot about Jamaica that I didn’t know, for example, and The King’s Deception likewise taught me some Tudor lore I hadn’t been aware of previously) So, we shall see. His series character (not all of the books belong to the series) Cotton Malone is kind of a James Bond/Jason Bourne/Jack Ryan hybrid, but like I said, I enjoy suspending my belief and going along for the ride. What can I say? It’s fun.

I don’t have to go to work until later today–bar testing–so I am hoping to get some cleaning done, serious work on the book(s), and maybe even take some time to read a bit more.

And so, it’s back to the spice mines with me. Have a lovely Tuesday, all. And here’s a Tuesday hottie for you:

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