Musings About Writing and Stories About Life
She's like the girl in the movie when the Spitfire falls
Like the girl in the picture that he couldn't afford
She's like the girl with the smile in the hospital ward
Like the girl in the novel in the wind on the moors
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2006-01-23 11:59 PM
Days and dazed
Words Written: “The Broken Fiddle” 1381
Exercise: ½ hour workout show
Dishes are washed, chicken cordon bleu is merrily cooking in the crock pot. I’ve designed a bibliography for Sophie Mouette (and her parts), and I’m about to send off a collab story to Teresa (I wrote the beginning, she wrote the next part and sent it back to me yesterday, and I wrote the end last night). I’ve done a little “day job” work, although I have a bit more to do. First, though, a cup of Lady Grey green tea (in an effort to add more green tea to my life—the Lady Grey flavored actually doesn’t taste like dirt).
So, to recap the past few days. We headed out Thursday afternoon, stopping first for a orgiastic pass through Powell’s, which resulted in…
So, not too strange a mix this time—one mystery, a few romance and erotica, and SFF and YA. I grabbed the one Bungalow book that I knew was on sale and didn’t really let myself browse much further. Ditto YA. I avoided the dangerous sections of paganism/religion and history altogether. There were several SFF books on my list that I realized were at another branch, and went ahead and ordered them after I got home (The Strange Adventures of Rangergirl by Tim Pratt and the Denise Little anthology Time After Time that I think I know everyone in). Oh, and Ken picked up a motorcycle travel book; he’s going through a spate of reading about people who’ve traveled ‘round the world on bikes.
That night we had a bad dinner experience at a restaurant in Salem; it was called something like “You’re Almost Home.” Ken said his food was fine, but my chicken cordon bleu and twice-baked potato were the saltiest damn things I’d ever eaten, and the vegetables were obviously frozen, not fresh. Meh. They did, however, have an appetizer called “Cheese Styx” on the menu. I refrained from ordering them, although I did take a picture of the item on the menu.
We stayed in Ashland that night, home of the famed annual Shakespeare festival that I’m sorry to say I’ve never been to. We did get a program so perhaps we can go this year, on one of our trips north. The motel was cheap, smelt vaguely of cigarette smoke (although Ken couldn’t smell it at all), was cold, and there was just enough ambient light that we both had a surreal night of half-sleep. Ken actually got up at 5:30 a.m. and went to a nearby restaurant to read and have breakfast.
Thank the gods he took me to that restaurant after I woke up and we checked out, because it totally made up for dinner the night before. I had corned-beef hash. Real corned-beef hash, with chunks of corned beef and hunks of potato and bits of onion. Swoon.
Not much to say about the drive. The 5 through the San Joaquin Valley is about as dull as Kansas (and I’ve driven though Kansas). We listened to a wide variety of music. We stopped at a non-chain fast-food–type place for supper (one of those places we always see but never stop at because it’s less than an hour from home on a road we only take when we’re traveling a distance—it had Greek, Mexican, omelettes, and burger-type things, and I happily devoured a gyro and Ken munched on souvlaki and lo, it was good).
Saturday involved sleeping in and catching up on things and whatnot. That evening we motored down to Manhattan Beach because Todd Sucherman (of Styx) was drumming with Day After Daze. We’d hoped to go Friday night as well, but we got home too late. Ken talked to Todd more than I did, which is kinda weird if you think too hard about it. (I mean, who’s the Styx fan? Really?) Lots of our fellow Stygian friends were there, and lo, it was good. We got home after 3 a.m. and lo, our bed (complete with purring cats) was also good.
Recent conversation between Ken and I:
Ken: (Asks about any errands I have to run.) I have to go to the AAA place near Trader Joe’s…
Me: (Mentally) lemon-artichoke pesto—hey, that would be good to serve Morgana and Brian on Wednesday if we’re cooking for the dinner-and-movie night—and Greek yoghurt
Ken: …and Staples.
Me: (Whips chair around to fully face him. Gleeful tone.) Staples? Let’s go now!
There. Finished another story and fired it off to Teresa for a crit. I have another story to work on (a co-authored one with Sarah; it’s a scene from our book, but I need to write the framing material so it works as a story) and to start Teresa’s and my next novel (working title Chloe). It’s all good!
What Have I Done Today to Make My Writing Dream Come True? writing
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