The Alpha Dog and I have made a standing weekly writing date, so yesterday, I managed 1,000 words! And since I’m writing a novella, I’m only about 8 thousand words away from finishing. Where I’ll submit it, I have no idea, but I need to get this story out of my head. Two of my readers–the Delightful Phone Friend and the P-I-C–have both read what I had a few weeks ago, and said it was fantastic. The DPF did say it’s not erotica, so it can’t sell there, and it’s too short and sex-driven to survive as anything other than a novella in a like-minded group of stories, so we’ll see what happens.

And my agent said she’d be open to reading–and if she likes it, representing–my revised Mothering Heights. I want to revisit it and deepen the emotional depth to make it less fluffy (but no less funny, I hope). Not quite sure how to do that, but I bet if I can up the stakes for my heroine and make it less of a straight romance it will have a chance of selling.

This weekend my friend from high school–WHO HAS NO NICKNAME!–is coming to visit. We plan on drinking beer, eating steaks, and making fun of people’s outfits. Maybe see some art, too. And perhaps I will unearth her nickname.

I’ve known her since before I was a compulsive nicknamer; she sat in front of me in French class, and like me, she had long hair. Unlike me, she did something new to it every day (French braid, appropriately enough, side ponytails, twists, barrettes, etc.), so I hated her. Rational, not so much. But when I got to know her, she became one of my best friends, and remains so, even now.

The birthday was wonderful! Thanks to everyone who stopped by and spared a kind thought, even if you did not post a comment.

There was dim sum, big cocktail rings, hoisin sauce, pix, awesome gifts (go, Netflix!), sushi, hugs, tear-worthy cards, delish dessert, sake, more hugs, more pix, and lots of non-stress. A good day.

The only thing missing was Clive on my doorstep, but pursuing your dreams is what makes you push forward in life, right?

Today looks to be good as well, with some writing planned. Actually planned!

Yay!

(Yes. It does feel weird for me to be so content. My brain is looking for some potential area of stress. Whatever. It’s all good).

So on Saturday afternoon, four of us–Carolyn Jewel, Keira Soleore, Elizabeth Mahon and I–trooped over to the Haight for some tattoo action. None of us had any prior, and some of us (notably, me) were nervous.

It hurt, yes, but not agonizingly so. This is right after it got done, which is why the skin is a little pink in the area. It went really quickly, too, and I am very happy with the result.

So it should be no surprise to anybody that in addition to having nicknames for most of my friends and random people on the street (”Mr. Guy” is a popular epithet), I also have nicknames for my clothing, which helps when it comes to making the Packing List, which I make each and every time I take a trip. That way, I can just fill out the list without thinking too hard about it. Having nicknames helps, too, because there’s only so many times you can write “black top” without getting confused. This trip, for example, I am taking no fewer than five black tops, each with their own nicknames.

One of my bizarre grandmother finds is what I affectionately term ‘clown pants,’ which is a jumpsuit, of sorts, made of cotton with a skirt-thing kinda draped over it so you can’t really tell it’s a jumpsuit. You have to get into it all at once, which makes removing it for bathroom purposes equally difficult. Plus, it’s not the most flattering thing on me ever. AND I HAVE TWO OF THEM! Apparently my grandmother was so enamoured of the style she had two made in Hong Kong, one in black and white, one in a light chartreuse color.

I am not bringing clown pants to RWA (”Well, it depends on if you want to look good or not,” the Spouse said when I asked him about bringing them. That answered that). But I AM bringing a pantsuit thing I call my Bea Arthur dress, because it looks like what she woulda worn on Maude.

That’s probably not a good sign, because Maude wasn’t exactly a fashion icon, her fashion statement being more along the lines of Bill Cosby’s sweaters.

But I do not care. I am throwing caution to the winds, and will be wearing Bea Arthur Dress on Wednesday evening, I think, to the Beau Monde Soiree. Ha!

Today is my first full day in Brooklyn; very glad to be back, although sad not to be in the Land o’ the Lakes.

Some pix:

The Nine-Year Old with my cousin.

The Spouse (otherwise known as Scott), the Nine Year-Old and my aunt Mary.

It was a fantastic visit, I am happy to be back for a bit before heading to SF.

1. WFMU
2. J.R. Ward
3. Loretta Chase
4. capri pants
5. slides
6. hoop earrings
7. Tweezerman tweezers
8. iced coffee
9. our Holland Grill
10. the deck
11. flowers
12. brainstorming friends
13. Playing Scrabulous and Scramble at Facebook
14. Adele
15. Santogold
16. Unaccompanied Minors (thanks, Goedi!)
17. Trailers for Hellboy II and Quantum of Solace.
18. My washer and dryer.
19. The number ‘19,’ which is my birthdate number.

Yes, I am referencing Creedence Clearwater Revival in the title of this post. Sue me, my dad played them a lot when I was growing up.

But I’m back to writing some of the super-sexy Regency, and so had to find a good pic of my hero:

Mm. Fun.
And I did the Carolyn Jewel thing, and notebooked the plot for this, and for my other longer Regency-set historical. Kinda cool!

I am bound and determined not to just sit around and gripe about not having time to write. I am going to make time.

So the Spouse and the Eight Year-Old and I had a housewarming party on Saturday, which was fun; a lot of friends from disparate groups came, and that’s what we love, the mingling of folks who would otherwise not meet each other (we had a NUCLEAR PHYSICIST in the house, as well as a cartoonist who came up with the “-saurus,” stuff, like “Aerobicasaurus,” or however it was spelled, of a dinosaur in Jane Fonda gear. So, like that, and it was fun).

It meant, however, we were working until 2am every night getting stuff put together/put away/put down (no, wait, that was me. I got put down. Ouch, smack!)

And now the real life starts: I am going back to the gym, I am finishing the revision, I am starting a new book. Yay.

Isn’t summertime grand? I have heard the living is easy. Not so sure about that.

As anyone who has spoken to me, read this blog, walked by me randomly or any other brief contact knows, we just moved into our first owned house. Yay.

When we moved in, we knew we hated the cabinets, and also knew we had no money with which to fix them (we joke that instead of being made of MDF, mid-density fiberboard, they’re LDF–low-density fiberboard. Oh, aren’t we cards).

Even before construction started, we painted them orange on the inside to make them pop, a trick we found in Domino Magazine. Which was fine until we chose soft, subtle colors for the outsides of the cabinets. Suddenly, the orange looked garish, plus the paint kept flaking off the cheap cabinet material.

So the Ambitious Spouse (clearly not me) got the idea to wallpaper the insides, after I’d sent him here to a wallpaper site I found.

And last weekend, he did it. I painted the insides of the cabinets white and he papered, and here are the results:

I think they look awesome. Really suits our mid-century modern style, and the cabinets don’t make us cringe anymore.

At last! I am actually touching words that are my own (which sounds kinda weird, actually). I am editing to provide CLARITY and CONTINUITY*. And to make sure not as many people throw my book against the wall if it indeed gets sold, published and distributed.

I am still reading the same book I started a week ago. It’s odd not to be plowing through books. The rotten side-effect of a busy life.

Oh, and have I mentioned I am now averaging two pots of coffee, one pot of tea, and one can of diet Coke a day? Is it possible for one’s bloodstream to be made entirely of caffeine?

Megan

*My own interpretation of my agent’s notes. She was more specific, and not as generally damning. Yeah, welcome to my inner life.