Seaweed Season

So, while we really haven't had any oil on the beach so far--none at all, from what I can tell--it is seaweed season. Every year, huge blankets of sargasso seaweed drift into shore. The picture is of Padre Island National Seashore, but our little sandbar island looks much the same during seaweed season. Except a lot of mornings, the blanket of seaweed is thicker, and wider.

It's perfectly natural. The seaweed is actually GOOD for the beach and part of the Gulf coast ecology, and it's interesting to walk on (though you don't want to much, because you can't see what's under it). It can be kind of stinky. Here, they tend to rake it up and pile it against the seawall to help anchor new sand dunes. Other places, I'm not sure they do that much.

Thing is, it's kind of a red-brown color, once it washes ashore and dries out. Very similar in color to the red-brown oil they're showing in the pictures on TV. Consequently, a number of folks in hotels along the beach would see the sargasso clumping up on the beach, and call downstairs in a panic to ask "What's that stuff on the beach?!?!!" It's seaweed. It belongs there. Just step over it, if you don't like the crunchy, textury way it feels. It'll be gone soon, and then it will be jellyfish season, and you'll be missing the seaweed. (Yeah, the jellyfish come ashore after the seaweed mostly stops. It doesn't really ever completely stop.) Still, when there's a choice of oil on the beach, and seaweed--give me the seaweed!

I did get some pages written today. Not many. I'm going to join a 100-words-a-day group and try to get this dang book finishes.

Write fast? Write slow?

Seawall mural is looking sadly bedraggled since Ike. Wonder if they'd like volunteers to try to spruce it up...

Anyway. I have taken to checking in at Twitter, and clicking on all the referrals to articles & such until I have a whole row of tabs across the top of my Firefox. And when I have a minute more, I read them all. And now I can't remember which one I read that made me think.

It was an interview with Ron Charles, who is an editor and book critic with the Washington Post and just won an award. He sounded like a fascinating man (especially since they have been trying to find a Romance novel reviewer who doesn't write things like "If you like this kind of crap..."), and I found the interview interesting. But there was one thing that tweaked a few thoughts. I've thought this before, but I don't know that I've blogged about it before. If I have, and you read it, forgive me, and skip down to the beach report.

He mentioned how he tried to be respectful of the fact that the novelist might have poured the past 8 years of his or her life onto the book when he reviewed it. And I got to thinking about a writer's pace of writing.

There are a lot of folks out there who think that a book more slowly written must inevitably be a better book than one written quickly, all subjectivity set aside. I do not agree. Furthermore, I have a sneaking suspicion that if a person takes 8 years to finish a book? They were doing a whole lot of other stuff (most likely a day job) while they were writing that book.

I have a book I'm working on that I have been working on since, oh--1981, or earlier. I'm still not finished with it. But I have not been writing on the book every day of that time. I decided, back in '81 or so, that I did not have the craft and skills to write the book at that time, since it had a complicated plot, would have to be told in flashback, and had a difficult character to write. So I set it aside for about 20 years.

In the intervening time, I have written 5 or 6 books which will never see the light of day. I have written 8 more, which have or will be published by various publishers. It's not like I haven't been writing. I just haven't been actively writing on THAT book.

If I count only the time in which I have been actually writing and researching Thunder in a Cloudless Sky (working title), I've probably been working on it 6 or 7 months.

I don't consider myself a fast writer. I can't whip out a draft in a week. Or even 2 weeks. Or a month. But. I do write an average of 6 pages a day, which is faster than the 1 page a day book in a year that some writers manage. And I don't write multiple drafts. My first draft is pretty darn close to the final version. I might add a scene. More likely I've cut several scenes (I tend to write long.) and reworked it to smooth things out. I've probably cut and smoothed some dialogue. Corrected grammar and typos. Fixed inconsistencies here and there--like changing eye-color, or minor character names. And that's about it. I prefer the "all at once" method.

Still, despite all that, it does not take me 8 years to write a book. Even Thunder, which is a huge book, will not actually take me that much time to write. I posted here last week: it took me 10 weeks, 2-1/2 months, to write 450 pages. And I don't even spend all day writing. I do my composing/drafting in the mornings, then I do other stuff--PR, e-mails, blogging, etc.--in the afternoon. I do it this way because I have found that I tend to fall asleep over the desk if I try to draft in the afternoon. I just have a sinking spell, as my Great Aunt Jessie put it, about that time. So I get those 6 pages written in half a day.

Other award winning authors write faster than I do. Some write slower. The thing is--how you write is how you write. Faster does not necessarily equal better. Nor does slower. Working eight years on a book (or six, as in Dan Brown & The Lost Symbol) does not mean it's going to be a masterpiece. It might be a darn good read. But it might not.

Personally, I think I write better when I write faster, because I keep my head in the story. I'm more immersed in the story world. I do not think about it all the time. I think it's better to shove everything back into the swamp where my stories live, and ignore them, until it's time to pull things out again to go to work. The swamp does a better job, most times, of letting the right stuff bubble up when I need it than if I actively think about it. I might think a little bit if I'm working morning pages a la The Artist's Way, but mostly, I don't. The subconscious is smarter than I am about a lot of things.

In the end, I am still skeptical of those people who claim to write full time for years to produce a single book. I just find it hard to believe they're writing all that time. If I took six years--or five, or two--or even one--to write a book, you can bet that a whole lot of that time would be spent doing other stuff.

I'm not saying it's wrong to write slowly. Your process is your process, just like mine is the weird thing it is. I just have trouble comprehending what they're doing with all that time...

Because, you know, if you write just one page a day, at the end of a year, you have enough pages for a book. I wrote a whole hour & a half today, and got TWO pages. And they were synopsis pages, which, as we all know, counts the same as Four pages of story, because it's twice as hard to write a synopsis...

Beach report: Yep, went out to the beach to walk. Went late, at 9 a.m. instead of 8. Sun was bright and hot, humidity is heavy enough to make the windows of my house sweat all day. Temp about 82 F/28 C, but it felt hotter because of the sun & humidity. The water was pretty surfy today. More waves than we've had lately, white water all the way out past the jetties. The seafoam was white. When I went out Saturday, it was kind of greenish. Weird.

It was still a nice walk. I found a big, pretty shell. Will try to remember to take a pic of it soon. Met a cute little dog. (Did Not take Dolly.) Not many birds out that late, but lots of little crabs were digging the sand out of their holes. Didn't see any cool crab footprints though...

Better go put food on to cook.

Lifelines - or How To Keep Going

The princess wussy dog and I went for a walk this a.m. She makes me walk faster, so I get more out of it. I intended just to walk on the seawall (I have to wear actual shoes when I'm walking with her from the house--too far in flipflops) but she was a good dog--didn't bother any of the people while we were out walking, and she kept looking over the edge of the seawall. She hasn't jumped off since that first time. I imagine the 10-12 foot drop gave her pause. So we went down the stairs and walked back along the water. She was very good then too--did not slip her collar to chase birds and did not upset the small children by going too close. It was a beautiful morning for a walk, cool & breezy. (Cool for Galveston = hot for many other places. It's probably 80F/27C) I threw in this picture of the "Do Not Swim Too Close To the Jetties" signs because I thought they looked festive with their red and yellow floats on the ropes--but you can't really see them in the picture. Oh well.

Walking on the beach is one of the things I really enjoy about living here. We can walk from the house (which we never do with the grandkids, because we don't want them to know just how close it is), or drive up and save the walking up time for beach time. I was going to use that as a segue from talking about my beach walk to talking about lifelines in writing--but I can't figure out quite how to do it. Except that writers have to do non writing things to "fill the well" that the writing comes out of, and walking on the beach is one of the things I do.

Now, I am going to talk about those Lifelines mentioned by Ali Hale. She talked about how lifelines are other people who keep the writer honest. They keep us writing and working toward the goal of finishing a longer work, so that we keep writing those 10 pages a day, or 6 pages, or 2 pages. (There have been times that I struggled just to get a half page written.)

She mentioned writing critique groups, online or in person. And critique groups are great. I belonged to a fabulous group in Waco about 15 years ago, before I moved away from the area. Of the first 5 members, four of us have been published. I do believe in critique groups. The problem is, not everybody can find one where they live. I moved from my small town near Waco (I lived about 30-45 miles (48-73 km) out of town) to an even smaller town in the Texas panhandle, about 60 m (97 km) from Amarillo, the nearest city. No critique groups available. There are online crit groups that work very well for some people. I've never been able to make them work for me, because so far, nobody in any group I've tried to participate with has been consistent in either critiquing or writing. Which kind of defeats the purpose of a lifeline.

See, a lifeline is a form of accountability for those deadlines. When you set your own deadlines, there's no penalty if you don't make them, except maybe guilt, and getting down on yourself. However, if you're producing 10 pages a week for your crit group, and they expect those 10 pages, (we met every other week, and shared 20 pages each time) you work harder to get them done.

That said, a critique group, for all that I love them and would love to have one again, is not the only kind of lifeline there is. The past 3 years, I have had a Goals Coach.

Back in 2006 I took an online class by Gwen Shuster-Haynes on creating a writing career plan for introverts and extroverts through the Kiss of Death mystery/suspense chapter of Romance Writers of America. I got a lot out of this class--I took it, I think, just before my publication contract with the LUNA imprint of Harlequin got canceled, and it really helped me organize myself and keep moving forward. Anyway, one of the things I got was the idea of a goals or career coach.

How this works, or how it's worked for me, is that I teamed up with another person, we wrote down our goals for the week every Monday (or as close to Monday as I could manage), e-mailed them to each other, and then the next Monday, when we e-mailed our next set of goals, checked off what we managed to get done in the last week's goals. My first Coach was Shari Bouillion, (I may have added or left out an I in there) who insisted we work out yearly and quarterly goals with dates. (I tend to be real wishy-washy about dates.) And that we include family, work, writing, and spiritual/personal goals. It's obvious she was MUCH better at this goals coaching thing than I am. We coached each other for over a year, and her life got so complicated, she had to drop out.

I was bereft! I still wrote up my goals every week, and printed them out and stood them up on my lamp where I can see them if I ever get stuck with what else I need to do, but it's not the same if you don't have somebody to be a bit of a nudge. I limped along on my own for a while, when on an e-mail loop I'm on, someone asked about how to keep going through the end. So I did my goals coach pitch on the loop, and asked if anyone was interested, and now we have a 3-way goals coaching group going between myself, Natasha Moore who writes for Red Sage Publishing, and Carol Stephenson, who is one of those right on the verge of publication, that last frustrating phase before you finally make it over that final hump.

Natasha has very short goals lists. She confines hers to just writing. Carol prioritizes hers. She has a Must Finish section--which are not all writing goals--and a Priority 2 section which is "If I have Time & Energy." I put all my goals in one long list, but the ones at the top of the list are top priority, and the ones at the bottom are lower. (I need to move "Exercise" higher on the list!) And it's time to nag them (though usually it's Carol that does it) to post some goals for the last quarter of the year.

We don't critique. We all write Very different things. We write at different paces. Sometimes, we don't post any goals for a week or two. I tend to disappear when we have company (friends & family love to come visit us at the beach). Carol moved house a while back and is still dealing with that. Natasha goes on RV trips. (Jealous!) But we come back when we need to, because it's a way of keeping ourselves on track.

It seems to work best in a smaller group. We could probably add one or two more, but I don't know that I'd go higher than four.

So. There you have it--another kind of lifeline for writers to stay on track. If you have a critique group that's working for you, great! But if you don't, you might try finding one or two other people who can help keep you on track by exchanging weekly goals.

Beach observations and other news

I meant to post this yesterday, but got too busy. Today's no less busy, but I am determined.

First, want to say thanks for the "Awws" from Catie and Barb. I have decided that I need to walk more often, but not quite so far, because I get tired and don't pick up my feet and trip over stuff. My bruises are better, and my hand is doing that "getting well" itching. :)

I drove down to the beach to walk yesterday, because it's more fun, and because I wanted to spend my walking time actually on the beach, not getting to it. And I didn't take Dolly. I tend to observe stuff more when I don't have to deal with the dog.

First observation: The seaweed has come in. Blankets of it. I was thinking maybe it's a little early for the big piles of seaweed, but maybe not. We're almost halfway through May... I saw some logs that had floated in that looked like they had fur. Greenish fur, but furry, nonetheless. (Yes, I know it's algae. But it looks like fur.) And a tennis shoe that had been in the water long enough that it had those lipstick clams attached to it. Quite a few decent sized ones... I only saw the bottom of the sole, not the top, so I don't know how much of the upper shoe survived, but that sole had been floating around a long time.

I only saw one seagull. I was out there by 8 a.m., but I think because the sun's coming up earlier, the seagulls are giving up their "standing by the edge of the water waking up" earlier. I saw lots of sanderlings and ruddy turnstones, all of which had two legs. They have a little butt wiggle when they're running away from you...

I also saw a shark that had washed up on shore. It was about a meter/yard long (give or take that difference between a meter and a yard), and it didn't have a tail. I don't know if it died and got washed up because it had lost its tail, or if it lost its tail after it got washed up. It didn't look like any scavengers had been at it... I have no idea what kind of shark it was, though. I've been looking--not a nurse shark. Dorsal fins aren't right. Its nose was really square across, so it's not a pointy-nose shark or a round-nose shark. Hmm. It was gray, with that straight-across nose, one rather pointy dorsal fin, no barbels (catfish-like whiskers), gill-slits in front of its side-fins, and small high-set eyes. Haven't found the right picture for it yet. And having its tail missing takes away another thing to help ID it. Oh well.

In other, more interesting news, New Blood is a recommended read by the Virginia Beach Public Library! It's a lovely review--and they're recommending it!! I'm excited.

I got my copy edits for Heart's Blood (Grey's story), and have finished them up, except for the chunk of 25 pages that got left out of the ms they sent me.

What do you think of Blood from Stone as a title for Harry & Elinor's story? Stoneheart? Heart of Oak? Working on villains for the story... Villains are such a pain.

On Writing, Blogging, and Editorializing

Now that I've written the title to this blog post, I'm not sure what I wanted to say about those topics. Let's begin with this one: editorializing.

See, my dayjob is at a newspaper. I've always been a newspaper reader, even before I got to college and majored in journalism. I tend to read stuff in them, and then--many times--want to argue with the things I read. Which is kind of a lot what bloggers do. But see, being on staff at the paper, I can't write letters to the editor. However, I CAN write columns. (They're not actually editorials, since I'm not an editor, but merely a lowly editorial assistant.) So, I wrote one this week. About reading books--recommending that if people want to escape from reality a little while, movies are fine, but books last longer and have a lower cost-per-escape-time ratio. They're trying to muscle me into writing a column more often--but I don't know if I can stand once a week. I've done that, and sometimes I wrote some really drivel-y drivel. It may be "occasional." Like whenever I think of something I want to write about.

Blogs are sort of like editorials for everyman. Letters to the universe, instead of the editor. Sometimes they're read by millions--or thousands. Sometimes, they're read by friends and family only. Hopefully the readership of this blog runs into the dozens. :)

Blogs are like editorials that people can write instant rebuttals to in the comments. The technology makes it easy for flame wars to get going, because people can just pop off. And there are no editors to clean up their grammar and turn their gibberish into logical sentences. (I've cleaned up a LOT of letters. What people mail/e-mail in looks a lot like some of the blog comments. Only less coherent, some of them.)

Let's see--so I've blogged about editorializing. And blogging. So. Writing. Peh. (It's like Meh, except more puffy, with a P.)

I've been making fair progress on the writing, since my realization of what the opening scene should be. Even though I have been smacked in the head with another story that has insisted on being written. I write the contracted book during regular writing-work hours, and have been writing the other one during the hours I would ordinarily be reading or watching television. (My current Netflix movies have been waiting for 2 weeks for me to watch them.) So I'm not taking away from the Official Book. It's actually been working pretty well. This other one--I'm not even sure it IS a book. It might be. So I'll see where it goes for a while. Even though I feel guilty, I'm doing okay on The Book.

Well, except for today. Today was a bust. First, I took the granddog to the beach for a walk, and even let her off the leash. She ran and chased the birds into the surf, and ran and ran, and did Not run off across the jetty, or bother the 2 people on the beach, and when she got tired, she came back and let me put the leash back on her. And because she chased the birds (seagulls and willets) into the surf, she got all salty and sandy. So I gave her a bath when we got home. (Mostly because she was stinky to start with.)

Except Dolly didn't want a bath. She so didn't want a bath, that she pulled out of her collar (which she didn't do on the walk). I had to pick up wet, salty, sandy, stinky dog and Carry her to the hose/shampoo. She is not a particularly large dog. But she ain't no toy poodle either...

She got her bath, though. Then I went inside and took one. Between the walk, the dog bath, my bath, the laundry, and all the other sundry things I had to do, it was getting late, I was feeling cranky, so I didn't write today. There. I confessed. Sometimes I skip a day writing, even when I'm on deadline. I am hoping this will help ... clear my palate. Or something. I think I'm about to run down with this side-writing thing. Right now, it's feeling very Mary Sue-ish, so if I can't fix that, it may not turn into a book. And I have A Book to write.

One I am liking, actually. I like how it's going. I need to go back and tweak some of the early stuff so it doesn't erase the conflict, but I think I know now how to do that now. Harry needs to shut up. He's a talky kind of guy, (Some guys are--my oldest grandson is getting in trouble at school for the exact reason his dad used to--talking too much... ) and he believes in laying his cards on the table--but he doesn't need to lay out quite so many of them. And he needs to be just a tad more aggressive.

Speaking of grandsons--they didn't get to come last weekend. Just their dad. So all my boys--the fella and the two sons--had a boys' day out and went Gulf fishing for the day on Friday. They caught two meals worth of vermilion snapper, which is not the same as red snapper, which is not in season. I'll post a picture of the fella's ginormous red snapper he caught. The youngest caught a 28-inch amberjack he had to throw back, because amberjacks have to be 32 inches to keep them. But the snapper was excellent. They invited me, but...

So. There you have it. Opinion, and news. What more do you need?

Mini adventures & random thoughts

Went back out walking this a.m. on the beach. Did not take the dog. The weather was cloudy and windy, and a bit rain-spitty. But I wanted to walk on the beach, so I drove down, rather than spending so much time just walking up there and back. I climbed down the stairs at a place where one of the stair rails was broken off the concrete stairs and three-quarters buried in the sand. The part that wasn't buried stuck out of the sand at an angle, like some drowned spar.

Anyway, where I climbed down, they hadn't put any additional sand down. They're replacing sand washed away by Hurricane Ike, but hadn't done it yet in that area. However, they'd piled sand up on the other side of the next jetty, clear to the top of the jetty. I climbed up on the rocks, from "my" side, but I wanted to walk down by the water, where the sand would be harder packed, and--well, the sand is piled up so high, it makes a little cliff. Higher than I wanted to jump down with my wonky knees. So I walked down the jetty to where the tide had washed the sand down.

Except it had washed the sand underneath, between the rocks, and not on top of the rocks, and when I was standing on what I thought was sand over rock, turned out I wasn't. I was standing on sand with a hole under it. And my entire left leg crashed through the sand into the hole between the two big jetty boulder/rocks. Next thing I knew, I was sitting sprawled on the sand-covered jetty, with my leg down a hole. Didn't hurt me. Had on long pants and walking shoes and socks. The sand made a kind of cushion, so no bruises. Just a big surprise. And a lot of sand down my leg, in my sock & shoe.

But getting up and down those jetty rocks was a lot of work. So I hiked down to the next set of stairs --past the next jetty-- and climbed up and walked back to the car on the seawall. And got rained on, a bit. It's cloudy and windy, but not cold, today. Until the Gulf washes more of the sand down, and makes that edge not so cliff-y, I'll probably stick to seawall walking for a while...I do need to go take a picture of it, though, so you can see what I'm talking about...

Now, we come to the random thoughts section:
I did see 15 pelicans flying out to fish. And did I mention that the seagulls have their black heads back? It will soon be the season for seagull love...

The boy and I watched "300" again last night. And there was a scene with a bird sitting on an abandoned spear (from one of the dead, I think). And when the bird flew away, it made a seagull cry. Except--seagulls can't sit on spears. Their feet aren't right. They're webbed. So they can't perch. They can sit on pilings and broad flat posts and roofs and stuff, but they can't perch. It would be like a duck perching on a narrow branch. Ain't gonna happen. So now, I'm criticizing the birds in movies. (sigh)

Took Dolly to the vet this a.m. after my walk. Turns out, she not only has allergies like the rest of the family (her "white" eye is really sensitive), but she has a wonky knee like her Gigi. That's why she limps sometimes, because her kneecap keeps sliding out of position. Knees, not hips. We got ointment for the eye--it got infected from the allergy irritation--and shots, and she's in great shape otherwise. She was SO excited at the vets. Wanted to sniff at all the smells and play and sniff and play and... I think she scared an elderly dachshund's elderly owner, running up to sniff and play. The dog was a little affronted, but the owner looked alarmed. So we took her out the other way. Dolly, not the dachshund.

Went to see TWO (2!) movies this weekend. Taken and Push. Liked both. Becoming Jane and Hancock came in from Ntflx. Jane came in twice. I reported that it hadn't come (they mailed it from Houston, and it didn't get here in a WEEK. I can drive to the far side of Houston in 2 hours...)(Plus, we got the other movie, watched it and mailed it back before the 2nd Jane came.) so they sent another one. And now I have 2. I will mail it back. I have enough clothes to fold for a movie watching marathon tonight.

I have written 7 pages so far of HARRY & ELINOR FIGHT MONSTERS. I am going to attempt to write this on the computer. We will see how it goes. If I don't get my page count up, I may go back to the longhand...except that I probably wrote a LOT more pages than I have left, since I started, and started over, and over again multiple times. When I write that in longhand, I still have the scratch-outs to show that I actually wrote more. I am saving some of the deleted bits--and have already used some over again--but it's still not as much as the saved. Anyway, I'm getting to the more exciting stuff, so maybe it's going okay...

Dancing in the streets!

Okay, actually, there's no dancing. Just lying around and reading books and playing videogames. I took a whole day to do absolutely nothing but what I wanted to do. Why, you ask?

Because I FINISHED THE BOOK! (Snoopy dance) Finished it. Cut out all the boring stuff (I hope) and cleaned it up, and sent it off to the agent and editor. It came in at 576 manuscript pages. One page more than New Blood. Just over 135,000 words. New Blood has just under 134,000 words.

Today I played. Even went out and walked along the seawall--but didn't go down on the beach, because they've piled the sand up 4 feet high (or so) and it requires climbing down a cliff to get to the hard-packed sand, and I didn't want to do that. Maybe if it's warm enough for my flip-flops tomorrow... The seagulls have their black heads back, so it's already courting season for them, or will be soon.

And tomorrow, I have to start the next book. Oak and Iron? Maybe I can do a hyphenated adjective to go with the noun of the title... Need something to go with both elements and with plants. Hmm. I also have to figure out the magic processes a little better. Wish me luck.

Dolly's Adventures at the Beach

This is how uneventful my life is--when Dolly the granddog has better adventures than I do. Of course, I wouldn't want the adventures she had.

Last Friday, when the weather was shirtsleeve warm (today it is butt-freezing, let-Dolly-hang-out-in-the-laundry-room cold), we ventured forth for a walk on the beach in the fog. She was a very good doggy walking down the street to the light and waiting for it to change. We crossed Seawall and proceeded east to the stairs where we usually descend and walked back the other way to the jetty, which had been transformed by a huge pile of wet sand into a ramp from the street to the beach on either side of the jetty.

Huge dump trucks were driving up and down it, and down the beach to the west of the jetty--which is much narrower than the east side section because more of the beach got washed away over there. They were replenishing the beach, starting down at 61st St. Given the trucks and the narrow beach, I turned Dolly around and went back to the wider part of the beach. And, foolishly, I let her off the leash so she could run. She ran up and down the beach a while, mostly in the (cold) water, chasing birds, until she decided (apparently) that she could catch the birds that flew out to sea by running out to the end of the jetty. She ran about 3/4 of the way out, and then Jumped Off The Jetty Into The Water!

Deep water. Over her little doggy head. Where people get swept under and drowned every summer. She did not fall. She jumped. So I'm trucking fast as I can (running! Me!) to reach the jetty, even though I can't go in after her, but maybe I can reach out and grab her from the rocks or something. Meanwhile, I'm watching the little white doggy head at the top of the water. She couldn't climb back onto the rocks of the jetty--they were too steep, so she swam along the side of the rocks toward the beach, swimming, swimming--I could still see her head. And then legs! White doggy legs. She was standing up and out of the water.

So then, what did she do? Crossed the jetty where all the trucks were driving back and forth. By this time, I'm almost at the jetty, so I climb up to see over it, and I see a pair of headlights in the fog driving toward me...with a little brindle-and-white dog running as fast as she can in front of it. She hauled doggy butt back to me, and wouldn't go anywhere until I put that leash back on her. We are both agreed, no more adventures for Dolly. If she wants to run, she can go run with her boy.

We were both pretty worn out by this time, so we climbed the stairs and crossed the street and went home. Whereupon Dolly went and hid from me in the garage because the last two times we went walking at the beach and she got in the water, I was mean and awful and gave her a bath!

I gave her a bath this time too. It's not good to leave that salt in her fur. But I thought it was pretty funny, how she tried to hide from me. I think I hurt her feelings, because she wouldn't come out and play with me the rest of the day. She has now forgiven me, though, because I let her in the laundry room when it's too cold outside.

I am getting my new computer today! Yay!! And I am going grocery shopping for Christmas.

The writing is still going. I may be almost through the romantic black moment to be ready to begin to resolve it and get into the fantasy black moment and big battle and stuff. This book is the hero's story, I think, more than the heroine's....

Time--never enough of it...

Life begins again

Boy, it is REALLY easy to tell when school starts when you live in a tourist mecca. I could have lunch at Whataburger today. During tourist season, no way can I get through the door, much less find a parking place. There usually aren't many people out on the beach at 8 a.m., but today--I saw even fewer--though the beach still was groomed. (They take a big bulldozer out with a rake and rake up the sand every morning.)

The seagulls have all lost their pretty black heads. And there are brown gulls amongst them. I saw a brown seagull the other day and was very confused. Laughing gulls are not brown. They are shiny white and gray and have black heads--or dirty-looking white ones. (They never do loose all their black feathers.) And then I remembered that the babies are brown. They are the same color as the beach sand. I didn't see one of them sitting in the groomed sand, until I looked really close.

I saw crab tracks this morning. I couldn't figure out what they were at first. They look sort of like a 4-inch wide net was pressed into the sand, a delicate-looking pattern. Then I saw the hole in the sand at the center of all the tracks. I suppose I could take my camera next time and hope I see the tracks again. They were really cool looking. I'm pretty sure it was blue crab, or something besides hermit crab (though they are local too), because there was no tracks of a shell dragging behind the skittery leg tracks.

Also saw a couple of seagulls carrying shrimp around. I decided they must have stolen them from the fishermen out on the jetties, because shrimp are bottom feeders, and seagulls don't dive. It was pretty funny looking though--white shrimp dangling from the gull beaks.

Spent much of the weekend shopping. Didn't intend to go out and shop, except for books. (The boy wanted the last Terry Goodkind Sword of Truth book. I haven't read any but the first one, and don't intend to, but he's been caught up in the series. I bought 4 paperbacks.) But they were having a big sale at Dillards. HUGE sale. The fella and the boy bought suits and shoes and sport coats. I bought pants. That are Long Enough!! (This is an issue for me, especially since most of the pants I already owned are too short, and the mirror in the bathroom at the newspaper tells me every time I go in there.) I had to hunt amongst the britches on sale for the ones that did not say "Short"--but I found them. (I'm really only average...) And I bought tops and shirts. I wasn't sure about one pair of pants and one top, and wanted the guys to come upstairs and give their opinion--and while I was waiting for them to finish buying sport coats (they'd already bought suits), and show up, I found two more tops to buy. So it was their fault I bought more. But I look fabulous. (My pants are long enough now. ;) )

I am reading lots. Need to be writing lots--but I did finally get all that I had written typed in. Tomorrow, it's time to start with new stuff. And I have 240 pages typed. I don't think I've reached midpoint in the story. Maybe the 1/3 point. (sigh) Which means there will be large amounts of whacking and thinning and trimming going on later. (sigh again) However, I'd rather whack than add, so...

Rain! and Hecticness

It's been a very dry spring on my island. We just barely missed making the Top 5 Dryest Springs Ever because we had a little stormlet two days before the official first day of summer. Then on the first day of summer, while I was driving back to town from Fort Worth, The Sky Didst Open and The Deluge Didst Pour Forth.

While I was on the highway. And I had to visit the little girls' room (so to speak). I'd've made it all the way home, except everybody slowed way down--because when the Sky Opens here, the Deluge Really Does Pour Forth, and the freeways tend to flood three or four inches deep. And when they flood, people hydroplane and crash into the other cars if they drive too fast. So it's a good thing that people slow down. But I had to get off the freeway and find a pit stop. Then I had to squeeze my way back amongst the cars driving slowly in the pouring rain, because it didn't show any signs of slowing. And it didn't. Rained all the way home. Rained me into the house. Stopped long enough for the fella to bring my stuff in the house without raining on everything. Then it started raining again.

Rained again today. Hard, but not terribly long--though it's still sorta sprinklish. We have friends in town, from our little Panhandle town, come to the beach. It will be fun to get to see them again, but there's a lot of cleaning up that has to be done. And grocery shopping. I did already get by the fish market... You know we have to serve boiled fresh shrimp to all our visitors.

This is going to be a VERY hectic week. Besides our visitors, our "bureau" at the paper is short one person, because she got slapped in the hospital before she keeled over, and they need me to put in extra hours, if I can, but there's a funeral I ought to go to (relative of a relative), and I'm taking Friday to head over to ApolloCon. There's a couple of other things too, that I may skip out on--or maybe not. Depends on how everything else goes. But I'm tired.

And I'm trying to pull together a partial of Old Spirits to send the editor. I think my chapters look pretty good. But I need to write a synopsis that makes sense. That's not going to happen this week. Not as crazy as life has gotten just now, but I'm thinking about it. Trying to figure out how to summarize stuff I've written, and sort of exactly what will happen in the parts I haven't written. I think I need to pull a big chunk of courtroom stuff out... of all the courtroom stuff, maybe. It's very loosey-goosey just now, and I know I'll need to tighten the heck out of it before it's done. But for now, I guess I'll go with it.

Going to read from New Blood at ApolloCon at my reading Friday night. Hope a few people will be there early enough to want to hear it. Have to print it out to be ready to read.

Here I have written this huge long blog post, and I haven't even mentioned the cool beach stuff. Like, beginning last Friday, when I went out to walk on the beach (sans Dolly), and the fish were WAY in shore. And of course, the pelicans and dolphins (and I even saw a skimmer, which was way cool) were inshore chowing down on them. I love to watch the brown pelicans fishing, because they're so cool about it. When the fish are thick, the pelicans will fly just ten or 12 feet above the water, and when they see a fish, the feet will drop like webbed landing gear, and BAM! They'll hit the water. They dive so fast, and there's always a splash--a big one, given the size of the birds. But it doesn't faze them--up they pop, maybe float a minute, and off they go, into another take-off to get ready for another dive. They can dive from as high as 50 feet without getting hurt, but given how murky the water often is, I wonder how they can see fish in it. Maybe that's why they fly lower. But then, I have seen them dive from way high up, so they must be able to spot them. It's so much fun to watch that drop--Bam! (er, splash?)

Today, I took Dolly back out again. She's really pretty good, but I think I'm letting her get into some bad habits. I think she figured out how to jump around in the surf while on the leash--she can run in circles and still run and jump. I think she watches for the bigger waves (still not very big, but she's short) so she can jump them and let them float her a second or two. There were all kinds of dead fish on the shore--some of them really big. I saw one that was a good 2 feet by 1 foot from dorsal to ventral. Big fish. I don't know if they just got stuck in the shallow water, or what, but... Lots of great big feathers from the pelicans too. Dolly couldn't figure out how to pick one of those up to carry it with her. There were big washes of broken shells that were still big enough to hurt my tootsies. And more sargasso, but not enough to make blankets. After the sargasso cometh the jellyfishes... Come on, seaweed! Keep coming. Don't want jellyfishes.

Since Catie has encouraged me to walk to Rivendell, I'm going to do it. I don't remember how far it is, but I've walked 6 miles on the way. According to the Eowyn Challenge, I have made it into Tookland. It's going to take me a Really Long Time to do this. At least the only thing I have to climb are the rock jetties, every half mile or so...

Words written--who knows? (I've typed in 92 pages--but I've written lots more than that)--I did write 20 pages last week.

Miles walked to Rivendell: 6

In the Water!

I finally got in the water for the first time this year, and it was as wonderful as I thought it would be. I really like the Gulf. I like the warmth. I like the mild waves. I like floating and, well, I just like it. I wanted to go out this weekend, but you know, there are rules about swimming.

I believe in the Buddy system. You just do not go swimming--especially in the Gulf of Mexico, off the Texas coast--without a buddy. Yes, there is a lifeguard, but you need somebody there With you, paying attention To you, who will notice when you're not where they thought you were. So, I had informed the fella I wanted to go swimming. But he wasn't feeling well. (He's been dealing with allergies and bronchitis all week.) I was hoping I could get him to at least come down to the beach with me to sit on the sand and be my swim buddy while not swimming. But the boy got off work early. He came home at 6 p.m., instead of the 11 p.m. hour we were expecting him. And I got him to come with me.

We also took the dog, because Dolly likes to swim too. We walked over. I still think that's total coolness, that I can WALK to the beach to swim. We had to take turns going out to floating depth, because dogs are short and one of us needed to stay with her in the shallows. I was walking back to our stuff to put the boy's glasses on his shoe when he was out past the breakers, and Dolly slipped her collar. She didn't mean to--she just wanted to go sniff something else--but she came back and let me put the collar back on her. There was a little Yorkie yapdog barking like crazy at her, and she wanted to go over and say hello, and we were mean and wouldn't let her, because the Yorkie was behaving so aggressively, it would get itself eaten. And then people would be mad.

I had a wonderful time in the water. I went out twice to float--just laid back and let the water rock me. Got caught once when it broke over my head, but I didn't have to touch bottom. Just spit out the water and straightened out again. Oh, and I was body-surfing in, and got stuck in water just a tad too shallow. See, it's kind of a production for me to stand up when I'm on the floor, or the ocean bottom (those bad knees again)...and the water kept knocking me over before I could get up. It got rather comical, before the next breaker sort of pushed me up to my feet... The second time, I started walking a little sooner.

Then we had dinner and all of us went out to see the new Indiana Jones movie. I enjoyed it, though the fantasy elements had me rolling my eyes a little. Just once. It was fun.

Father's Day, the boy offered to take his dad out to dinner at the restaurant where he works, but since the fella will be having lunch there three times this week, he said "anywhere but there," even if it is one of the nicest places in town. (Darn.) So we went to the Chinese buffet, because the Japanese place is closed for lunch. And we took naps and I had a really good Father's Day. Not so sure about the father in the family... ;)

This will be a very, very busy week, with stuff going on just about every evening. No, not just about. Every. Single. Evening. And to get everything done, it cuts into my morning writing time. I am going to work like mad to try to get at Least 2 pages done every day--and I'm afraid that will be a tough job. Still, I did get my 2 pages for today, between sticking a chicken in the crock pot for supper, doing laundry, cleaning up for group meeting at our house tonight (still have to buy ice cream on the way home...), and... I'm sure there was something else I was doing this morning. Oh yes! cleaning the boy's bathroom, because he didn't do it. And we're having people over tonight. (The ice cream is to make root beer floats.) 2 pages. Basically, I finished up a "confrontation" scene. I had ideas on where to take it next, but had to write them in the margin, because I was just out of time.

(Had to go to the bank, the post office (My bookrak books came in, Yay!), and to Comcast to take back the old converter box and get a new one, before work. Fortunately the Comcast office is right next door to the newspaper office, literally.)

Who knows when I will get to go back into the water... I've got a "roundtable critique" thing in Fort Worth this weekend, ApolloCon next weekend and... well, there's bound to be something else going on, but darned if I know what it is. At least it doesn't take long to get to the beach... :)

When I don't WRITE FIRST

This is the granddog. Dolly wanted me to throw her bone for her when I took her picture. She's not jealous of her toys at all, though she does like to play tug-of-war. She was just home for the weekend when I took the pic. She's spending the summer with us now, and has filled out a little more. She's just now getting to be a year old. I've enjoyed having a dog to play with and take out to walk.

We went walking this morning and she worked me hard--didn't pull or anything. She was very good on the leash. But she likes to walk fast, and I hate to hold her back, so I walked a little faster. Which is good for me, so I probably ought to take her out more often, huh?

I was fussing at her, trying to get her to hold still in this other picture, and she dropped her bone and put on that "I'm in trouble?" look... No, I didn't crop or compress the pictures. Should have, but I didn't. I was mad at the computer, because it wasn't downloading the pictures the way I wanted it to. I did finally get them downloaded--after only a little cussing...

I've been wanting to share pictures of the granddoggy--and to put some pictures on the blog just because they look nice, but, well... Mostly I blog at the dayjob these days, and I don't have my pictures there. I e-mailed these to myself. I'll have to do that more often. :)

Don't know what I have to blog about. Went walking today. The beach was lovely. Not so much seaweed today.

I did get six good pages written yesterday...and today, I wrote a paragraph. I think it had more than one sentence in it.

See, I've listened twice now to a workshop on Writer's Bootcamp, which discusses lowering goals to raise production. If your goal is one sentence, and you write two, you've achieved 200 per cent of your goal. (Right, math person?) Anyway, I'd like to write more than one paragraph, but --and I do know exactly what I did wrong.

I did not Write First.

I've learned over the years, especially when I got to write full time, that if I am going to get any writing done, I have to Write First. Before I look at the computer, package up books to mail, print out critiques for writing chapter meetings--any of it--I have to write.

Now, it is permissible to shower and have breakfast, and even to go out for a walk with Dolly (or without) (in which case, the walk comes between breakfast and shower, 'cause, you know, one must wash off the sand and salt and sweat--this IS Texas. The temp may only be 87, but there's, like, 900% humidity which makes it feel like it's 418 degrees...) before I start writing. I can also put dishes in the dishwasher, or put laundry on to wash (preferably not both), or make necessary phone calls before I start to wash. (The phone calls really need to come before the writing, because otherwise the phone calls get forgotten and my meds don't get renewed, or my hair gets longer and longer and longer--which state it is in right now. Way Too Long and Shaggy.) But those are the only permitted chores. Otherwise, the writing HAS to come first.

And today, I didn't. I needed to send an important e-mail, and I needed to see if another e-mail had come in. (I hadn't checked e-mail since Monday, so there were a lot, and I didn't read very many of them.) I needed to download pictures from the camera. I needed to print some stuff out, except I couldn't remember where I'd put the files. Then I got out the pages I wrote yesterday. Then there were the books I finished that ought to go on Shelfari (I know. Time-wasters...) Then I looked at what I wrote yesterday.

I added a phrase here, moved parts of a sentence around there to give it the highest impact. I clarified that bit and took this other thing completely out. Then I had to put a sentence in another spot. I tinkered. And when it was time to go on, I wrote my two sentences. (I'm pretty sure there were two.) And came to a stuttering halt.

I HATE this. I want to be able to sit down and just write. And I'm fumbling all over the place. Summer usually sucks when it comes to the writing. There's a lot of stuff going on. I'm traveling a lot, have commitments in the evenings, more people at the house. But those are just excuses. Because if I remember to Write First, I can get it done. Sometimes it comes slow, but it does come. I just have to Write. First.

sigh.

Graduations, sisters and seaweed

So, we went to the niece's graduation last Friday. I took the day off work so we could arrive early enough to help out with the shishkebab party, and got to cut up potatoes, peppers, melons and strawberries to go on skewers. The potatoes and peppers were cooked (with some pretty cool marinated meat). The fruit (which included both green and orange melon and pineapple) was not. (Though I did put some pineapple on to cook, actually.) I got to visit with the sister AND the brother and various in-laws. The nephews condescended to at least say hello, though not much else. They're mostly at that monosyllabic teenaged or pre-teen phase. The nieces did chat more. (There are only two of them, and one is only 8. But her almost 18-year-old sister did visit quite a bit.) It was fun to get to see everybody. This leaves only 5 more kids on my side of the family still in public school. These kids are growing up.

My sister has graduated from college with her teaching degree--just three or four weeks before her daughter finished high school--and has a line on a job in the school where they live. We've all got our fingers crossed.

We came on back home Saturday, because we've got a lot going on this week. And now I try to think what it is, I can't. Lots of church stuff going on. We've been experiencing house shopping with the daughter--they have now made an offer, and it was accepted, so they'll be moving soon if all goes as it should. Hopefully I won't have to go help them move. I've moved too much already this year.

I've been trying to get back in synch with the writing. It's going a tiny bit better. I got 3 pages written today, rather than the 2 pages I wrote yesterday. Maybe I can write 4 pages tomorrow.

I went walking on the beach Monday and took the granddog. I'd been nervous about taking her with me, not knowing how she would behave, but I broke down Monday morning and just did it. Dolly did jump over the seat to sit in the back seat, rather than the back cargo area, but didn't move any farther than that in the car. And when we got to the beach, she was a perfectly behaved little doggy. She didn't even chase the birds, much less try to play with the few kids out that early. We didn't walk in the water much. The seaweed has come in.

Oh BOY has the seaweed come in. It made an ankle-deep blanket about 3 or 4 feet deep right at the water's edge, because there was so much of it, the water couldn't push it any higher on the sand. It kind of dammed the water up, and if we wanted to walk on the water side of the sargasso, we were almost knee deep in the water when the waves came in. And it was this thick along the whole mile course that we walked, and all the miles we drove past.

Dolly's a medium-sized doggy, so she walked a little faster than I do, which got me walking a little faster. Not as much faster as to keep up with Dolly, but faster. I'm a tad sore today.

So, that's the news--pitiful, isn't it? But I'm going to leave things at that.

Blown Away

The wind has been blowing like crazy the past few days--knocking over the glider-swing in the back yard every night (as well as the big trashcan) and scaring the granddog into barking. There's sand blowing across most of the streets in town and piling up in intersections or along curbs or the risers of the stairs up the seawall.

My hair, which needed cutting about 6 weeks ago, is at that awful length where, when the wind gets hold of it, it makes this Dutch-Girl-Paint-girl-hat curl over my ears and nothing I do can make it not stick out in that stupid Bozo-the-Clown curl. The wind is very damp, and has salt in it, and that combines with the hairspray (if I didn't glue my hair down, it would hang straight down in my face and make me CRAZY) and makes the hair even more impossible. I really need a haircut. Bad. And can't seem to remember to call anywhere or squeeze out time to go to a walk-in place. I'm either going to have to get used to looking like Bozo every time I set foot out in this wild wind, or manage to get this mess cut off.

I went out to walk this a.m. Right At High Tide. Usually I'm an hour ahead of the tide turning, or an hour behind, or sometimes smack in the middle. But today, I was on the beach for the only turning of the tide today, as high tide hit and then started back out. Not that I really noticed the turn of it, but I certainly did notice that it was high, especially since this wild wind--enough to make cars rock--is blowing straight onshore and pushing the water in more. I had to go almost to 39th street to find stairs that led to sand rather than water, and even then the water was almost knee deep a time or two. And since the tide was so high, the water was over sand that spends most of its time out of the water. Only the very top layer was wet. Immediately underneath, the sand was soft and squooshy, so I was sinking into the sand rather than pounding along the hard surface you usually get with wet sand, because it wasn't wet enough. All that sinking in makes for quite a workout.

The wind is so strong, the birds were flying at an angle. I saw a few pelicans flying southwest, but pointed south (the direction the wind was coming from). Kind of like you have to drive your car in a strong wind, with the steering wheel pointed into the wind to keep the wind from shoving you off the road. The gulls were flying like crazy just to stand still. It's been this way for days.

I'm waxing so poetical (or maybe obsessively) because there's not much else to report. The fella and I did go out to see PRINCE CASPIAN last night, finally. The boy had to work, or we might have gone to see Indiana Jones. That's the one he wants to see. I forgot to take my sweater, but didn't get too cold. The folks behind us in line had obviously been to the local theater before, because one had a huge fleece robe, and another had a big jacket. Man, they keep that place cold.

The writing, it also sucketh. No real excuse for it, except that I keep finding excuses. People visiting. Errands needing running. Granddogs needing to be played with. Nieces and nephews graduating. The nephew's done. The niece is tomorrow. Have to/want to go. Get to leave early enough to go eat shishkebab at the sister's.

I think I've written a grand total of 5 pages this week. That's five more pages than I had last week, but they're all...transition. Getting from the morgue to the murder scene kind of stuff. Bleah. I mean, we have to get from one place to the other, but it shouldn't have to take 5 pages to do it. Of course, I'm disposing of an excess character (indisposition, not death) and switching POV in the process, but it doesn't feel like anything's happened. Suppose that's because it hasn't. And I'm still not sure where the villain will show up and cause trouble. I'd really like a bit of a frothing-at-the-mouth scene. Especially since I have two potential frothers. Maybe I can use the alternate frother here... Hmm.

Anyway--there's the News Of The Week So Far. Enjoy, and watch out for that wind. :)

Summer Crazy Season

Yes, it has started. The Summer Crazy Season. It begins with graduations, so for us, it started this past Saturday when we went to watch one of the nephews graduate. That meant a trip to Fort Worth, then sitting outdoors (fortunately, the ceremony was in the morning before it got Really Hot and under a tent, so there was less threat of sunburn) for a couple of hours, then off to a family party and much eating of barbecue and shrimps and cake. This is not particularly crazy, but it did involve driving long distances and sitting outside in the heat (they had little cardboard fans on sticks with a photo of the graduating class to stir the air) and lots of very loud children. We have pictures of the grandboys to post--but I don't think they're uploaded yet.

But no, the craziness does not end there, because the very next day, we had to go load up the boy--who is not so boyish any more--and move his stuff to storage, then move the rest of his stuff, and the granddog, home for the summer. This meant lots of climbing up and down stairs and vacuuming and re-packing of overstuffed boxes. (He didn't inherit the packing gene which his father and sister have...That's my boy...) And then driving again.

We had a party/potluck barbecue Monday night I made a bushel of potato salad for. (Other families don't eat potato salad like mine does. Five pounds of potatoes is only the beginning--and if the other folks at the pot luck don't eat much, all the better. They can have it for breakfast.) (Yes. Breakfast.) Also made the flour-free peanutbutter cookies, AKA the easiest cookies ever.

Much of the rest of the time has been spent trying to get the boy's internet up and running. I have internet. We're just trying to branch it off the main modem for him. The router we used in the Panhandle is refusing to work. You can only buy wireless routers now--though the one we got does have wire hookups for four computers, plus the wireless thing. But it's extremely slow when it does work. So I think he's taking it back and picking up another one. (Things are beginning to feel expensive.)

I did use the trip to the mainland to pick up the router as an excuse to stop off at the mall Waldenbooks and snabble up a copy of Blood Noir. I read it too. I'll wait a day or two before I go through it again and make sure I caught everything. I also bought a bunch of new romances because, hey--Waldenbooks has a "buy 4 get 5th free" thing, and I'd already picked up 3 of them. So I got 5 in all. The new Quinn, the new Layton, the new Chase, an Elizabeth Bevarly and ... one other I can't remember right now.

Let's see--this coming weekend, we have company coming. Tomorrow. The next weekend, a niece is graduating and we're going up for that. Then there's stuff during the week. Oh, and it's time to get ready for hurricane season on top of everything else. We live on a Gulf coast barrier island, so this is not something to ignore. So we have to put together a couple of hurricane kits--one for evacuation and one for riding it out in place (for the Category 1-2 size hurricanes).

Then I think we're here for a weekend, and then it starts again. Ack!

All of this makes it very hard to get much writing done. I'm creeping along this week at about 3 pages a day--on the days I get there. Friday will be hopeless this week. I just have to keep plugging.

Pelicans, and other thoughts

The thing about living at the beach is that you have to LIVE at the beach. All that regular, everyday stuff still has to be done, even though the beach is only two blocks away. Cooking, laundry, scrubbing bathrooms, going to work--all that stuff takes up going-to-the-beach time. So you just have to go anyway, and still, somehow get everything done.

I was thinking about this as I walked on the beach today. Tide was in-ish. (Didn't look for the times in the paper this a.m.) I could walk around the boulders, but the waves still came up--just not too high. I was thinking about how I still had to go home and do stuff, but wasn't it great that I could spend this little amount of time out communing with nature.

The sargasso seaweed is starting to come in. In places it looks like a crinkly, crocheted blanket, it's so thick. I'm not sure if the birds eat something on the seaweed, or if they eat the stuff that's tangled up in/hiding in the seaweed, but the birds--seagulls and sanderlings and plovers and willets--seem to hang out near it and hung through it.

Today, I found the biggest shell yet. Most shells that wash up on our Gulf coast are small. Mostly they're scallop-type shells in white or black or yellow-stripes, an inch, or maybe two across. The vast majority are much smaller, some smaller than my tiniest toenail. But this one is at least 4 inches across. Maybe 5. Bigger than the palm of my hand, and deep, and almost black. Part of the rim was broken off, but it's pretty much whole. I also found what I think is a piece of coral. I think it might be brain coral, from my minimal research. No picture of it yet...

I only saw one pelican flying today. Monday, row after row flapped by overhead. Usually I see at least one line of pelicans heading east--maybe it was a wind thing. Yesterday and Monday were very windy, today was less so. Anyway, Monday, I decided to count the numbers of pelicans flying in their lines.

When I was growing up not far from my beach, and would come down to swim and ride the ferry and such--I never saw a single brown pelican, much less a white one. They were quite endangered. One reason I decided to count how many I saw on Monday. I think I've also mentioned here that pelicans like to fly single file. I assume this cuts down on the headwind issue, like the wild goose V, but I've never seen pelicans fly in an actual V, just single file.

Anyway, I counted two lines of eleven pelicans each. Then one of thirteen. Then one of seventeen pelicans. That's a lot of pelicans. I was beginning to think that pelicans had a thing for odd numbers--but then I saw two separate lines, flying somewhat close together, of eight pelicans each. One had seven at first, but there was a singleton flying really hard to catch up and fall in at the end of the line. Now I shall do math.

I had to get out a pen and write on the bottom of a cutline page. I saw in one thirty-minute walk sixty-eight (68) brown pelicans. (If I added wrong, please correct my arithmetic in the comments. thank you.) That's a LOT of pelicans. They were all flying the same direction, so I'm reasonably certain it was 68 different pelicans, not the same ones flying in circles. Which to me is absolutely totally cool, since it was my own childhood when pelicans were so endangered you just did not see them on the island. At all. Oh, and I didn't count the single pelican I saw flying in to land beside one of the jetties. So that makes 69.

The beach belongs to the birds from dawn to about 10 or 11 a.m. I may go out walking at 8-ish, but the beach is still theirs. They tolerate me grudgingly.

I got started writing a little late. The plumber guy came and fixed the toilet from its intermittent running (which can be shocking while in the shower, since it would run every five minutes and alternately scald/freeze you while it ran) and I took my sweet time cleaning up after the walk. But I still got 3.5 pages written. Did 6 yesterday. I'm not sure I'll keep what I wrote today--or that I'll keep it in this location, but it's written.

Oh. I just remembered. I entered my very first juried art show Saturday. The very first one where I took paintings in and let other people (who are neither relatives or friends) Look at them and decide whether they were worthy of hanging in a show. They were judged in the non-professional category, of course, which probably helped, but there are some very good non-pros. Anyway, one of the two paintings I entered made the cut. (I suck at painting/drawing hands and feet. And arms. Some arms, anyway.) I didn't win a prize, but I made the cut.

So my painting of Robert is going to be hung in this art show. (It's in the blog archive if the other link doesn't work. I can't figure out how to post it on the blog with this work Mac. Just scroll down till you see the painting of the person near the bottom...)(If you want to see it.)

I'll take a picture at the show, so you can see it hanging with other people looking at it. ;)

High Tide

First things first, here. I'm donating the prize to be given away at the 2 B Read blog this week. This is the blog of the published authors chapter of RWA, and I'm blogging over there on Thursday. (I'll remind you again on Thursday. ) If you comment at the blog, you will be eligible to win the contest. So go read the blog posts, and comment!

High tide was at 7:12 a.m. today. I went out to walk on the beach at 7:50 (approximately). So the sea was very, very close to the seawall when I climbed down the stairs. I drove past the seawall parks (wide areas with benches and picnic tables and big piles of pink granite boulders extending way out into the water) to a place where I could walk more than two jetties without having to walk waist-deep in the water to get around the big piles of rocks--and the water came right up to the bottom of the stairway. I stepped of the concrete step into water.

I tried at first to walk around the rocks--because the sand did not cover those right at the base of the seawall. But the water was just too deep. Up to my knees. And I couldn't see the sand, so I couldn't see the places where the water had washed it away. It wasn't safe walking there. But I could carefully work my way up right next to the seawall and walk through the maze of rocks pushing up through the sand. High tide was really high...

But after I got through the rocks and to a section of beach where the waves didn't wash quite so close to the wall, I was able to notice all the giant rows of giant pelicans flying down the island, ten and twelve in line one behind the other, and the sanderlings and another type of sandpiper-like bird picking at the seaweed. I thought the other birds were kildeer, but I just looked up images of kildeer, and what I saw was different, so I'm going to have to go home and hit the bird book to figure out what they are. I think the birds were probably selecting little bits of the crinkly seaweed to use for nest building, but I'm not sure.

Had a busy weekend. I had hoped to stay home, but ended up not getting to. Wound up having three softball games to watch on Saturday, since the college team -- well, they lost their very first game, but won the second Friday game, which meant they got/had to play Saturday morning at 11:30. They won that one, which meant they had/got to play at 2:00. Then they won that one, which meant they had to play again at 4:30... We didn't stay for the third game. By that time, the team was so exhausted, they didn't win again. But they had a good run in the regional championship tournament. I enjoyed watching the two games we did watch.

And somehow, even though I stayed under the awnings and shade all morning and afternoon, I somehow managed to get enough sun to burn. My face and neck turned bright red, enough to show through the makeup, which at least toned it down a little. I wasn't in the sun! Okay, maybe 10 or 15 minutes, because it was cool enough that the sharp wind made it downright cold. And I burned in that 10 or 15 minutes. Good grief. Okay, so no more going anywhere without sunscreen. Especially at midday.

I've been able to get back into the writing this week. Except I had to get into my file cabinet to dig out some research. (I am pretty sure I have some more somewhere, but couldn't find it yesterday.) Which meant I had to get down on the floor to look through that bottom file cabinet drawer. Which meant I had to get back up. Which is a huge production, given the state of my knees and the rest of myself. And since the file cabinet is behind my desk, creating the walkway between desk and closet, I brushed against the lampshade of the lamp on the desk and sent it slowly crashing over to dangle from its electrical cord in front of the desk chair. The lamp knocked over the Coke Zero I'd been drinking, which dampened the page I'd been writing on, which fluttered to the floor. The Coke dribbled across the desk and onto the floor... Big mess.

So today, I re-copied the page that got all wet, because the ink ran on it, and I revised it, and I went on with the scene...and then I couldn't decide where to go next.

I kind of think I need to summarize a bunch of stuff here and move back to the main mystery, but I keep getting bogged down in logistics. My heroine has no girl clothes. She needs girl clothes before she can really do many of the things she needs to do. She's rooming with the girl wizard. Do I need a scene to set up how that's working? How would that contribute to the furthering of the story? Maybe if later the heroine stops showing up at the rooms...? Bleah. Hopefully I can figure all this out by the time I need to start working in the morning.

And I need to come up with a profound--or at least profound-ish--topic for a blog on Thursday, at 2 B Read. I want lots of comments, so I can give away a book. To YOU, perchance--

Thirty Two Years

That's how long the fella and I have been married. I have trouble remembering the exact number from time to time, actually--that's what age does to one, after all--and then I have to Do Math to calculate it. But that's the number. 32.

We delayed celebrating on our actual anniversary, Thursday, and went to church band practice instead. New songs every week can be a lot to learn. Friday, there was a faculty awards banquet the fella had to go to, and of course, I dressed up and went along. Stayed after and had a giant margarita while chatting with various faculty and spouses. And then, Saturday, we made reservations at one of the best restaurants on the island. I'd been wanting to go there for a while, so at last, we did. They do seafood with a Central American flair...and yes, you know I'm going to share our menu with you.

I like calamari, at least the fried appetizer kind. I even like the ones that have all their little tentacles. I have never had calamari flavored like this, though. It was delicious, fried up like those other sorts, but dressed with sweet banana peppers and caramelized onions and red bell peppers...pretty sure they were cooked in olive oil, and then all mixed up together in a sweet/hot/crunchy/calamari-tasting deliciousness. Oh, and they also serve--like you get tostadas with salsa at a good Mexican restaurant--this place serves plaintain chips with salsa and a green sauce--I think they called it chimichurri. The salsa was milder, with other flavors than in a Mexican salsa casera. Anyway, very good.

We had what one of the other waiters described as a signature dish of the restaurant. Red snapper with a plaintain crust served with raspberry chipotle sauce and Parmesan scalloped potatoes. The plaintains weren't sweet and only faintly banana-y. Nice and crunchy, and wonderful with the sweet-hot of the sauce. Not very hot, just ... right. And then we succumbed to dessert. I had a pecan ball, which is a giant scoop of ice cream coated in pecans (I thought it would be a little smaller) drizzled with butterscotch. They didn't...quite...have to bring out the wheelbarrow to roll us out of the restaurant. It is really a treat to live where there are so many wonderful places to eat. We still haven't made our way through all of them...

And then we went home to watch Charlie Wilson's War, and enjoyed lying around like overfed slugs to watch it. And that was our anniversary celebration.

Oh. And okay, let's just confess my native dorkiness here. I dropped, dribbled and/or dripped every single course on myself, beginning with a banana pepper slice, continuing through a piece of Caesar salad dressing-coated Romaine, to a droplet of chipotle sauce and ending with a major dribble of ice cream and butterscotch, right down the front of my red blouse. Sigh. Can't say I didn't enjoy my food...and I really tried hard not to wear it too...but, well, somehow these things always seem to happen to me. It has become a family joke. Years and years ago. Sigh.

Beach Report: I am now a seagull voyeur. I caught a pair of seagulls Doing It, and did not look away and give them privacy. I figured if they were going to Do It right there on the public beach with a dozen other seagulls watching, they probably got off on exhibitionism.

The male was standing on top of the female, who looked rather long-suffering, squawking like a little boy doing sound-effects for a slow machine gun, sort of an ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah. In seagull voice, of course. And in perfect rhythm, every dozen ah-ahs or so, the female would give off a little high-pitched squeal while he wriggled his butt against hers. The squeal was the only thing that convinced me she wasn't totally bored by the whole affaire.

Now I have to wonder where the seagulls nest. Probably over in the marshes on the bay side of the island. It's sure not safe to build a nest on the beach with all the beachgoers exploring.

And now I must add seagull porn to my oeuvre. Ah well. This, I think adds either to my geekiness or my nerdyness quotient. Nerdyness, I think. Geeks tend to be monomaniacs. Nerds want to know everything about everything, and since birds are not my only fascination... Yep. I'm a nerd.

Beach Reports begin again

Not that they'll be any better than sporadic until I get my time organized a little better. But I did get out to walk on the beach yesterday. It was in the evening, so quite a few people were out still enjoying the day. I found my new shorts I bought for my friend's visit that I didn't get to wear because a cold front blew in and we had to wear jackets to walk on the beach. I found my flip-flops. And I drove to the beach and Walked.

The water is WARM! YAY!!! At last. It's not bathwater warm like it will be in September, but it's warm enough for a pleasant swim, if the sun's out and the wind's not blowing too hard. I admit it. I'm a wimp when it comes to swimming water temperature. It comes from living in Texas so many years. If it's not at LEAST 90 degrees (32+ C) air temp, I'm not going in, and 95 F (35C) is better. Either that, or the water had better be warm. I've been swimming in hot springs pools when the air was "brisk" and that was acceptable. But I don't like to be cold when I'm wet. So, now that the water's reaching the 70 F (21 C) range, and the air's pretty consistently close to 80 F (26.6 C), I ought to be able to go out one day soon and enjoy a little wave action in the water.

The thing I like best about the Gulf coast surf is that there isn't much of it. We just don't get the big surfing waves that they get on the Pacific coast. Have I said this before here? I just really like the fact that the surf doesn't beat you to death, and that it's easy to go out past the surf, where the water is still just chest deep, and let the non-breaking waves just rock you. It's infinitely relaxing to touch sand between the waves, then ride gently over them as they come rolling in to break (not too violently) twenty or so yards farther in toward shore. Soon. Maybe this weekend. (Though I have plans--Saltgrass Potters spring art show and sale, and maybe the garden club plant sale over in Bayou Vista.) (And getting the car washed. I did get the license plate and its holder put back on my car. Had a bit of a close encounter with a large trailer hitch in the parking lot at Fish Tales... But the beast (aka, my vehicle) is still filthy.)

About the beach--okay, the water was warm. Swimmers were out. Not much seaweed, and it was mostly the little crinkly stuff. No jellyfish yesterday. Lots of shells, and I even found half a sand dollar. First hint of a sand dollar I've seen in the 7 or 8 months I've been here. So I took it.

Today is our 32nd anniversary, and the fella was, as usual, up to par. I received a lovely arrangement of yellow roses (he knows I like other colors better than red) and some very interesting purple bud-like flower before I had to leave for the paper. (Where I am currently sloughing off by writing this blog post.) I think we're going to celebrate Saturday with dinner out, and Charlie Wilson's War at home. We meant to go see it in the theater, and never did make it, and I don't think there's anything out now that we really want to go see. I will try and remember to report back in... TRY.

Think I'm through the "going back to fix" pages in the writing, and can start forging ahead with new stuff. If only I can remember where I thought I was going from here... Hmmm. Well, I can write it, and then if I have to, fix it.

Writer's Weekend

I had a wonderful weekend. A Writer's Weekend.

My best friend--the one I went to New Mexico and Arizona on a research trip with a couple of years ago--came down to the island on Friday with her husband, because she didn't want to drive through the big-city traffic by herself. My fella was out of town on business, but her guy did very well staying out of the way. ;)

I took them out to lunch at my favorite "local's hot-spot", and then we went downtown to see the hawk show they were having for FeatherFest. (This bird is actually a Sea Eagle, and he's checking us out.) After the hawks and a walk around town to look in a few shops, we had ice cream at the son's favorite ice cream parlor. (Mine, too. But I won't let myself go there unless we have company in town.) We drove around the historical district a little bit, and then headed back to the house for a little while.

B and I (we sign our e-mails by initials only--I think I started it because I'm bone-lazy, but our little group all started doing it, since we all have names with different initials--and now we call each other by our initials) had exchanged a few pages for critique, so we went out on the back covered patio to go over our pages, and while we were out there, it rained. We were under the roof, so we didn't get wet, but after an hour or so, it started getting cold and we went in. Had supper at Tortuga's Mexican Restaurant and watched the wind blow the palmettos around. Then we went back home again and plotted a book for B.

She brought her sticky notes and her big foamcore plotting board and her tape recorder (which kept stopping intermittently unless she smacked it--we decided it had become masochistic...) and a spiral notebook and her AlphaSmart. I never realized just how much equipment was necessary for plotting a story. ;) She had a huge cowboy boot box for the sticky notes, because the first time we tried plotting with sticky notes, we kept saying things like "We need more colors--we need a color for the villain, and for the hero's internal conflict, and for the suspense subplot, and for--" So every time she sees sticky notes in the store, she checks to see if they're a color she doesn't have already. I think she has enough sticky notes to last the rest of her life.

By this time, we were really tired, so we went to bed. Her fella had crashed a while back--the driving stress tuckered him out.

Saturday, we got up, drove to McDonald's for some breakfast take-out, and after we ate it, we plotted a book for me. Of course, I have more books plotted than I have time to write, and am having to take a week off working on Old Spirits to drive back to the panhandle this week and supervise the moving of the rest of the furniture, so I'm going to be writing even less (which upsets me no end), but we plotted yet another book for me. While we were plotting, her hubby went out walking down the seawall. He went into every souvenir shop along the way, and wound up walking all the way to 6th Street. Which is almost 5 miles from our street. And then he had to walk back. We'd have come to get him if he'd called, but he never did...

B and I went out and walked a couple of miles on the beach-or maybe only one. I was too busy talking and looking at all the birds to pay attention. I even saw some terns. We did walk out on one of the jetties--one with a paved walking path. It was quite chilly, or we might have gone walking earlier, but we wanted to wait for it to warm up. And we still wore out windbreakers to go walking. We weren't really hungry, so we went back to the house and had peanut butter cheese crackers and watched movies, then went out to one of the better seafood houses on the island for supper. (Had the charcoal grilled/fried shrimp combo--very good.) The man in the house was snoring by 10 p.m., because of his 10-mile hike...

Sunday, we got up and did speed-writing drills. We wrote 10 opening sentences. Not opening sentences to anything in particular, just opening sentences. Then we switched pages, and drew numbers, and wrote scenes to go with the opening sentence that matched that number. I got one that said, "Oh, honey, with a package like that, I'll do ya for free." (B is a stinker, because she KNEW I would have to write from her sentences, and put that one in just so I'd have to write something beginning with that... :P) It was a lot of fun, and we laughed a lot.

After that, I had mentioned a free reception and tours of one of the big mansion museums on the island, so we went to that--looked at all the stuff on display in the basement, and went upstairs to look at the living area and take pictures on the spiffy-cool front porch and such. (This is B and her fella on one end of the porch--yes, it's a round gazebo-y area.) Then we went to eat at a Louisiana-style seafood place downtown, and look at the stores on that end of the street. And then, alas, it was time to say goodbye.

Most of the time, there are at least three of us on our Writers' Weekends, but our third couldn't get away this time. But since, despite his ten-mile hike and aching legs, her husband had a good time on the island, I don't think I'll have a lot of trouble convincing them to come back. Maybe if my fella's here next time, the guys can go fishing. I know mine likes to fish, and I think hers does too... We didn't even ride the ferry or go out to the state park. And maybe our third can come next time too... Can't wait.

Now I have to just get busy writing Old Spirits, so I can write another couple chapters of Thunder, and get a little farther toward finishing it, and then I can write Time Catch, and then I can write the third, still-nameless blood-magic universe book, and then I can write this book we just plotted. Sometime in 2010, maybe???