How sad is it that the highlight of my day is that I have NOT succumbed to a nap?

But anyway. I have not. Woot for me.

And in other news, we are (seemingly) adjusting to the Fall Schedule, although the Hardworking Spouse finds it hard to leave work before 6:50, even though he gets there at 8:30. Stupid hardworking guy.

I’ve been writing, yay, and hope to finish this historical novella thing in a week or so. By which I mean maybe ten days, since a week? No effing way.

This week is my and Scott’s fifteenth anniversary, too, the celebration of which will entail wine, bread and cheese. Yay!

Okay, back to work.

I have been a bad blogger, possibly the Worst Blogger In The Entire World (although perhaps I exaggerate), because I have been so incredibly lame about updating.

So here I am. Abashed AND ashamed.

What have I been doing instead?

Getting the new middle schooler ready for middle school. First day went as expected, which is to say he was very confused and overwhelmed.

Reading.

Writing! Sent the Champion Agent not one, but TWO proposals. One she can do nothing with now, it was just to get it out of my head for the time being. The other she might be able to do something for.

More writing! I wrote an article for the NINC newsletter.

And another project! A super-secret fun project for which I am getting paid. Woot!

. . . and I always have my freelance job. So life is busy, and I am trying to keep all the things I have to do getting done and all (not that that makes sense, but it’s late–almost midnight–and I’ve been up since 6:00am, albeit with a smidge of a nap in the middle there).

This is what the hero of the short historical thingy I’m working on looks like:

The thing is, I love posting stuff here, whether it’s a rant, or a hawt guy or a picture of a cup of coffee. It’s just that I’ve been both busy and boring (and alliterative, apparently–see! I did it again!), so haven’t bothered. Will bother more now that the school year has recommenced.

Megan

*No reference to the Champion Agent, whose name is Louise, nor to my cousin Luis; it’s merely something I’ve always said.

So the Frampies are at the Jersey Shore, which means plenty of sun, sand, et al; the ‘et al’ could mean eating twin lobsters, or napping on the shore, or reading without guilt.

Yay!

‘Et al’ could also mean adjusting one’s conversation to include the MIL’s constant hovering concern, and all sorts of guarded fun. But whatev.

Meanwhile, I’ve been allowing my subconscious to work on the Demon Story (it has a dopey, deliberately obscure name in my head, but I’m not sharing it here), and have come up with some fun plot developments. I can’t wait to get back into it, after finishing the Regency-set historical novella I promised the Materialistic Buddhist I’d write (for my own benefit, mind you, since she is a Buddhist and all).

I’ve also exercised every day, including running and biking, so I don’t feel as logey and sluggish as I sometimes do when chowing on sticky buns and cream-filled doughnuts.

So yay.

Will likely post tomorrow to alert about a Riskies post, and then will see all back in Brooklyn.

So the Son and Spouse are off for a day of Daddy and Me time, seeing The Fantastic Mr. Fox and then onto a Knicks game, leaving me alone to procrastinate.

I am writing a bit, however, and am discovering things about my hero, which is cool; I kinda have a handle on my heroine, she’s insecure, loves bright colors, says the wrong things at time, and hates being told what to do (ahem. Like I said, I know her. Which is to say, I AM her). Here’s some of what I’ve written today:

“How do you find London? Not society, we know what you think of that.”
She ducked her head and tightened her clutch on his arm. “I apologize, my lord, for that. I—
“Don’t apologize. You were only speaking your mind,” he interrupted. “Refreshing.” A feather tickled his ear. “But in the spirit of plain speaking, Lady Hermione, I must tell you I despise your hat.”
Her response was unexpected; she gave a rich, throaty laugh, one that made his whole body react. “I know, most people do.” She reached up and pulled the feather away from his face, twisting it so it bent at an even more ludicrous angle. “I happen to love it.”
“I love London,” she went on. “The people, the streets, the noise—it is so exciting and vivid and lively.” She gave him a sly, almost flirtatious glance. “Rather like my hat.”
He gave a bark of laughter, causing a few people in the hall to stare at them. The British Museum was not a place for humor, it seemed.

Okay, first off, is my entire life RUN BY LYRICS? Because I thought ‘oh, I’m gonna write about something serious, way more substantive than what I usually blather about’ and the first thing that pops into my head is that stupid Jermaine Jackson song! Which I then had to google to discover it was Jermaine who sung it in the first place (not that lazy ass Tito), and now it’s stuck in my head.

But anyway.

Today I wrote, nearly 2000 words, on what I am grandly calling the women’s fiction contemporary. Although it’s really contemporary romance, only it was FOUR–count ‘em four–points of view, so it’s broader than straight contemp, I think. And I am trying to figure out the overriding conflict, and it’s just–the conflict is just LIFE and living it, and my characters muddling through. I need to throw in some extra drama, too, so I am trying to make it about money, which is always a motivating factor.

And the new Park Slope Mom book has just come out, to much excitement, optioned by Sarah Jessica Parker and stuff, and I keep wondering if there are any legs to my Mothering Heights book, which has a similar–albeit not as wide in scope–premise, or if that book is just self-indulgent Megan being funny without an overriding conflict (sense a theme?). My agent likes the book, but doesn’t rep those kinds of books. Not sure what the next step is. Or maybe there is no next step.

Of course I am torn in a gazillion directions, because there’s this shiny historical project that is so much FUN to write, not like this 100+ page thing with no O.C. (shorthand for overriding conflict, you know) with which I am currently wrestling. But the 100+ page thing is good, I think, and funny, and if it works into something bigger, could be a real book.

Blecch. And, as usual, I have to go resume being Mom and save the writer angst until later. Or keep it inside my head where it is normally.

Geez, this is a long post for me, huh? I must be really agitated.

Thanks for letting me share.

Yesterday was lovely. I got up, worked on freelance, then headed back upstairs to take a nap. WIN1

Then I worked on my own writing, and finished this short Regency-set story I’ve been doing. WIN2

Then, McVane came up with the perfect anagram for my name: Tramp, Fang On Me. WIN3

The Picky Vegetarian, who’s been working like a dog WITH dogs (and cats) called, which was nice, but cell reception stinks so all I could hear was “Happy Birthday.” But still, it was nice. WIN3.1

After, I read more of The Way of Shadows by Brent Weeks, which the Faux Critique Partner recommended. WIN4

[Many, many happy birthday wishes from Twitter and Facebook, plus a special post from my P-I-C] WIN4.1

Then, STEAK! And family, and wine, and laughter. WIN5

A gift of tube mascara and Godiva chocolate. WIN6

After that? The Nocturnal Aunt and I watched North And South, and she adored it. WIN7

A really, really good day.

“Hey, all sorts of drama and angst is happening today–I know, I’ll write some romance!”

Some of today’s output:

Violet couldn’t believe she’d done and said what she just had. She barely liked to sing loudly at church, even though she had a perfectly nice voice, because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, for goodness’ sake. Yet here she was, perched on her fiancé’s lap, about to attempt to seduce him. About to actually seduce him, she quickly corrected to herself. Or leave the room no longer engaged.

Rather like Scylla and Charybdis, if Scylla was the most wonderful thing ever and Charybdis would result in falling into the pit of despair.

So perhaps not like Scylla and Charybdis at all.

So I finished the first chapter of one of the historicals I’m working on (bear with me–there IS a method to my madness), and am returning my attention to the other one. Here is an excerpt:

A lady’s underthings are dictated by the kind of gown she is wearing.” She gestured towards the garment. “For example,” she said, “an evening gown such as what I have on is more revealing than a morning or day dress. My underclothes will therefore also be more revealing.”

“I see,” Christian replied.

“I see you see,” she said, nodding towards her bosom. “That is a great relief to me, Christian, I wasn’t certain you knew I was female.” There was that mocking tone again.

Oh, he knew. And so did other parts of his anatomy.

Damn. This was not going at all according to plan.

“Have I ever kissed you?” His words came out in a sharp burst. Like artillery.

And, coincidentally enough, her reaction was as if she’d been shot. “No.” She licked her lips and tilted her chin. “Would you like to?”

“Yes.” Perhaps kissing her would make him realize it wasn’t worth his agitation.

And, a voice that definitely did not originate from his brain said, perhaps he might also realize what an idiot he was, to think he could separate passion from his wife. Particularly if Violet was to be his wife.

I kicked butt AND took some names, writing-wise, at least:

“It is only for a few months while I am with my sister, you’d think women had never had children before.” Emma rolled her eyes, which only made her look more delightful and perter—not that ‘perter’ was a word, but Hermione was feeling too beleaguered to work on her vocabulary.

Not to mention starving; the Davenhams’ evening entertainment included all of their daughters, one of whom had enacted precise tableaux inspired by Gibbons’ Decline And Fall of the Roman Empire. All six volumes.

Hermione had contemplated eating her shoe around the Roman conquest of the Franks.

I can’t spill the secret High Concept of the book, because, well, I don’t want to, but it’s a whole lotta fun. And I wrote 1800 words today–1800!–which is awesome.

I also had a nap, ate gorgonzola cheese and read more of Lilith Saintcrow’s Redemption Alley, the third in the Jill Kismet series.

A good, good day.

*Yes, channeling Ice Cube; got a problem with that?

In thinking about what I wrote yesterday, and the whole ms I’ve been working, I’ve realized it just doesn’t have enough oomph. Not enough sparkle, or wit, or whatever. It’s fine, but generic.

So I gotta finish writing it and add the pretty.

But I wouldn’t want anyone reading it to think it’s my best stuff, ’cause it’s not.