Author: Jonathon

I intended to blog last night after I finished the novella, but I finished at almost exactly 1:00 AM, so the blog post would have been today’s anyway. Besides, I was too tired to be coherent on anything longer than Twitter. I’ve gone from finding the 140 character restriction very limiting to actually enjoying the short little messages. But I digress, there will probably be a lot of that in this post, because I am achingly tired. So why didn’t I sleep in? Everyone that has an elementary age child raise your hand; you know the answer. No matter your schedule the child-care issues go on. So, I’m staring bleary-eyed at the screen and trying to remember what the heck I was actually wanting to blog about, oh, yeah, the novella.

It’s done, and just in time for Jon and I to go away for a four day Memorial day weekend. I can go with a clear conscience and I’m hoping that when I come back to work that doing the novella will have shaken something lose for the Merry book. The last time I had something like this interrupt a book was MICAH during DANSE MACABRE. That was even weirder because the same characters and world interrupted and demanded to be written first.

I’ve joined a gym. I swore I’d never do it again, but they actually have leg machines that I can use with my injured ankle. I’m getting all this tone in my upper body, but when even a long walk hurts, leg work has come to a grinding, and painful, halt. Friends Pili and Carri recommended their gym, so tonight I went. It was a girl’s night out. Last time I had a work out partner was before Trinity was born. Okay, last time I had a work out partner that was a girl and not my husband, and last time I had a work out partner that didn’t hate to hit the gym. Jon loves the yoga and Pilates, and he’ll go to the gym if I make him, but he hates it. It’s no fun if half the team hates what you are doing, so in the spirit of our new exercise treaty he doesn’t have to go and I have found new people to work out with. Jon and I are still doing yoga together but for the rest it’s better apart. As Jon described to our new yoga instructor, "Exercise is our one area of mutual destruction."

Every couple has to have at least one area where they are not helpful to each other, exercise is ours. What we enjoy, what we want out of it, how dedicated we are to it; none of it matches. So in the spirit of detente we have decided to divide and conqueor. I’ll be doing arms, legs, and abs with girlfriends at the gym. Two to three times a week, depending on how the schedule works. Jon and I will still do yoga twice a week, and Pilates once a week. Jon is adding the treadmill back in, but that is impossible for me with my ankle right now. This was my first night at the gym. I finished one of the ab machines and Carri said, "You’ll feel that in the morning." My reply, "I’m feeling it now. It’s going to hurt in the morning." If the proof of the pudding is in the eating, then the proof of new exercise is how stiff you are the next morning, though I’m often one of those people that doesn’t stiffen up until the second day, so Wednesday will be the true test.

{Jon here: Fought with AT&T trying to get this posted. Got fed up and found a list of Public DNS servers. Now everything is working.}

When I say my typing speed is about 200 words a minute, I don’t mean in the traditional learn it in school way. In school I damn near flunked typing, which they made us take. Once I got out of the class I taught myself that same summer the touch-type method they were trying to get me to do, and it was good. Because what I was trying to do was type my own original stories, not copy, "The quick brown fox etc . . . " I always puzzled why I was so fast in original content but sucked at traditional typing tests. It would be decades before I got my answer to that question. It was when my daughter, Trinity, was diagnosed with dyslexia. As many parents discover the kid is not the only one with the learning challenge. Trinity is in a school specializing in her challenges and doing wonderfully, and now I know why copying text is a lot harder for me to be accurate then doing original stories. Some days I see the words just fine, but on other days the middle of the words switch around; occasionally they add a letter that isn’t even in the middle of the word, at all. That’s fun. This explains why spelling has always been a challenge and why school typing class was so difficult. So, when I say that I type 200 words a minute I mean I type that fast when I’m writing my own stuff. I don’t take off for mistakes; I just fix them if I see them. I’m doing my first story with the spell checker and grammar both on so that it highlights as I go. It had always stopped my flow when I did it before, but e-mails and twitter and such have helped me get more comfortable with all that highlighting, so I’m trying to write the new short piece this way. So far, so good. 

Took Trinity to the St. Louis Art Museum to see the last day of the Ming Dynasty exhibit. She’s loved archeology since she was about five. Jon and I like it, but it’s one of her serious things, so we do our best to encourage it. Nothing wrong with a kid who loves museums, art, history, and will spend a day looking at any of the above. Unless there’s weapons or armor involved she’ll actually stay longer in an art museum than we want to stay, but it’s just a matter of degrees. We all love a good museum.

Problem with this trip to the museum was it was the last day of the exhibit. I thought we had more time next week, but double checked and this was the very last day. We’d planned to go anyway, but it suddenly become more imperative to take Trinity today. We learned that if we didn’t make it by four this afternoon we would miss the cut-off for tickets. We had all day; no problem. I went over to my office for an hour before we needed to grab lunch and head that way. Do you guys see the problem? I didn’t. An hour later I was writing great guns. The story was so hot I could barely type fast enough to keep up with my muse, my imagination, and my thoughts. Thank Gods, I type around 200 words a minute. It’s the only thing that allows me to keep up with myself. Jon finally has the computer fast enough to keep up with the speed. I spent years typing too fast for the cursar to keep up, and having to wait while it blinked at me and the words finally caught up. Today was one of those magical days when the muse hits and you just hold on and type. It was great, amazing, but we had a deadline that was immovable. If we missed it we disappointed our kid. Not acceptable. So, we cut it close before we left so that I could finish the rush of pages. It turned out to be only ten pages, sometimes in these rushes it’s more, but ten is great in such a short space of time. What we hadn’t planned for was the traffic in Forest Park where the Art Museum is located.  It was a freaking parking lot.

It was a beautiful day so a lot of people had come to the park. It was the Shakespeare festival and people had come for that, and people were packing the museum because it was the last day of the exhibit. We sat in traffic with the minutes ticking away. Thirty minutes of traffic with only one more turn between us and the street that the museum was on, and we were down to less than twenty minutes to make the ticket cut-off. I finally said, "Stop let Trin and I off and we’ll get tickets. You get there when you can." He agreed, we got out and we began the half mile walk. Downside was that my ankle had been particularly painful today. It had taken me several tries to find a pair of boots that made the ankle feel better, but didn’t encase my leg in leather from ankle to knee on a summer’s day. I was wearing my New Rock flame boots, which I love, but they couldn’t give my ankle enough support to do a forced march for half a mile, mostly up hill.  Trin began to run, and I had to say, "I can’t run." My ankle was letting me know that there was no way to run if I wanted to walk without a limp later. Very frustrating as I kept checking my watch. By the time we got to the building, Jon passed us going the opposite way. He’d apparently found another road to take. We waved at each other and Trin and I charged up the steps to get tickets. We got them for all three of us. Jon and I talked on the cell phones. He said, "Go without me. I’ll just wait. I can’t find parking anywhere."

My reply, "No, you don’t understand. It’s a huge line. We aren’t moving. They’re staying open late until six to make sure everyone gets through the exhibit. You don’t want to drive around for two hours."

Jon said, he’d try to find parking, and we got in line. He did get to join us finally, and we were still in line so it worked out. Trinity loved the exhibit. My ankle did not. Frankly, Jon and I were not as in love with the exhibit as Trin was, but she’s a very glass half full person and we’re not. Before we complain about the exhibit, I’m going to sleep on it and see if what seemed like huge problems are really huge or just pain, tiredness and frustration talking. So, for now, we got it all accomplished, but we ended taking me without lunch, so I didn’t eat again until six, and I still have other work due. I have interview questions which were due today and now that my ankle has gone from a sharp pain to a dull ache I’m at my desk again. I just want to go to bed, but the interview is due for one of the foreign publishers and so I’ll stop blogging and get back to work.

8 pages today. Short piece still going well. Trinity and I watched "Fairy Tale" the movie about the two young girls that took the fairy photos in the early 1900s. The ones that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle published and talked about. The movie inspired her to make a lovely fairy house out in the yard. Jon played in his office on War-Crack during our movie viewing. He and I took turns doing things with Trinity so that the other person could have some alone time. It’s been a week with precious little of that for either of us. Jon then took Trin and went to Borders. He bought books and comics and she bought Bionicles. I had the house to myself to read, watch none kid-safe television, or simply to sit in the quiet with the dogs. All things that have been in short supply this week. Jon also picked up the third Mummy movie with Brandon Fraiser, which we saw in theaters, but thought we’d watch this evening, but we made the mistake, or maybe the happy accident, of catching the beginning of "The Princess Bride" on television. It’s one of those movies that you think, I’ll watch it until this scene, or that scene, and you suddenly realize you’ve watched all of a movie that you own on DVD. There are a handful of movies that are simply addictive and there is only one cure, turn off the t.v. and get the DVD and simply give in and watch the movie, or do what we just did, fool yourself into watching it in pieces, but at the end either way you aren’t unhappy. The three of us quoted lines along with the characters, and it’s still one of the best sword fights ever choreographed for the screen. There was food eaten, conversations exchanged, and Jon’s found a new book that he’s really enjoying reading, in the end it was just a good Saturday at home together.

I did eight pages today on the short piece. I’ve actually twittered several times today about the writing already, so I feel like I’ve already talked about it. Twitter puzzled me at first but I’m learning how to use it, and even beginning to enjoy the brief snippets of my day going out on the web. Today’s pages are on the short piece which is looking like it’s going to be novella length, so short only by my standards. But the last two days I really enjoyed writing. I think that’s the first time I can say that in awhile. Yes, I know I should be working on Merry, but I was feeling quite punished trying to write it and frankly so was Merry. So I gave myself a few days to write on anything that sparked my imagination; anything that made me eager to get to my desk in the morning. I’ve finally found that something.

I actually created a villain so fun I hope we don’t kill him right away. I’m used to liking my main characters but I don’t usually enjoy my villains this much. He reminds me of Olaf when he was first created. He seemed both scary and interesting enough to keep around. I didn’t plan on him becoming a recurring character to quite this degree though. He has a very major part in SKIN TRADE, and helps shape the book. Or rather Anita and Edward’s reactions to Olaf help shape the book; is that the same thing? This new bad guy isn’t about being scary so much as fun. He just enjoys the heck out of being bad. It’s fun right now to see him enjoy his job; I’m not sure that will be the case by the time the story finishes. By the end we may decide that he’s terrible enough we want him dead, but right now he’s got some of the best lines. I’m always a sucker for a character that can manage to be both funny and frightening.

My agent, Merrilee, visited from New York today. It was basically a strategy meeting. Where we are; where we want to be. What I’m making; what I want to make. What I’ve written; what new stuff to write. She went over her end of the business and we went over ours. I told her new ideas I had, and plans for both Merry and Anita. It was very business-y and I always find that a little disturbing. I’m not sure why, but I find talking about my writing as if it were regular business unsettling. What I do is very much business, and I treat it that way, but it’s also creative and artistic and that is hard to fold into a business model. But in the end how else do you discuss business? So all that creative output reduced to numbers and timelines; marketing and strategy. It’s a weird way to spend a day of writing, because though I didn’t type a word on any book today, this was part of the writing process, and part of my job. Tomorrow I get back to actual putting words on paper, and let other people worry about the rest for a few days.

I was having a tough day of writing. Nothing was working. It was just a discouraging and uninspired day. I’d put heels on for my ankle, but discovered that though my ankle likes them other parts of my legs do not, so I put on nearly flat sandals to give my legs a rest. We all needed to get out of the house for lunch. I’d hoped it would help lighten my mood so out we went. I wanted a hamburger with lots of bad stuff on it, or ribs, or a lot of things I’m not supposed to have on Jennie Craig. I had a salad with enough chicken to do protein. I was very good at lunch. I felt positively punished as I watched the burgers and barbaque go past me. Jennie Craig says that if you have a strong craving it’s okay to give into every once in awhile. I should have remembered that, because I got full, but I was no happier after lunch. Even driving the Baby couldn’t cheer me up completely. Then my ankle started to throb. So I needed heels and boots to help the ankle feel better. But it was such a discouraging day that I needed something to lift my spirits. I looked around at my boots and thought, I know just the thing. Some days you needs your Flame boots! Today was one of those days. See my new New Rock boots below. Jonathon got them for my birthday, but they were back-ordered and they arrived almost two months after my B-day. But they’re here now, and my flame boots were exactly what I needed today. Is it childish to say that it makes me smile to look down and see them? Is it wrong that I feel better walking around in the shiny metal heels and gothic leather? Maybe childlike is more the word and I think that’s something I’m needing more of, an ability to take delight in smaller things like new boots. But regardless of how grown-up it may, or may not be, to feel cooler in my boots I wrote better in the afternoon. I wrote a fun scene and really enjoyed writing for the first time in awhile. I got nine pages all together today which is, I believe, the most I’ve gotten at one sitting since I took my month off. My muse and I both like the flame boots.

Storm rolling in and I suddenly have a sixty pound lap dog. Pippin does not like storms. We got some puppy appeasement spray that you put on a kerchief and put around his neck. The spray helps some, but he still climbs into my lap skin quivering like a nervous horse. I cut roses from the patio ahead of the storm. I’ve got five vases full of flowers. The David Austin rose, GOLDEN CELEBRATION has really come into it’s own this year, so heavy with thick, sweet-scented blooms that the stems are hanging earthward pulled by the weight of roses. JOSEPH’S COAT which is a riot of pink, yellow, and neon glow red/orange is spectacular this year, too. AUTUMN SUNSET has more of it’s thick honey and orange-tinged blooms than ever before, as well. The roses have really enjoyed the slow, wet spring. Why are these blooming and the rest of the roses aren’t? These three short climbers are up against a brick wall, which gathers the heat of the sun and the cool spring air, so that these roses always bloom first, and often longest, until summer heat finds them and beats them against the very wall that helped them in the spring. Like so much in life what can help you at one point can be a problem later; depends on whether you need to be hot, or cool.

I’m wearing high-heeled boots with shorts, not by choice. My ankle tendon shortens in high heels, and the knee high boots stabilize the rest of the lower leg. My ankle is feeling the best it’s felt all day. My back on the other hand is not so fond of all these high heels, but it hurts a heck of a lot less than the ankle when it’s in flats. Saw a new doc today, and am going to try acupuncture. It’s what saved my damaged arm from surgery eight years ago. I had a surgeon wanting to cut me open just to see what was wrong, I said, no. I’d try something less invasive. Acupuncture, and weights saved me from surgery, though adding more weights lately has helped even more. Difference between the arm and the ankle injury is that the doctors weren’t sure surgery would help the arm, and they are pretty certain exactly what to do in surgery for my ankle. I’ve proven their point with the boots, shorten the tendon, and it begins to feel better, the boots just can’t reattach the tendon correctly. I think that’s even beyond acupuncture, but I’ll try something less invasive to get me through a little more of the year.  Don’t want to be on crutches in June when SKIN TRADE comes out. For those who have been asking for more than the first chapter of the new book, in two weeks when BLOOD NOIR comes out in paperback you’ll get more chapters from later in the book. A little more to tide you over until the book’s official release on June 2nd, and for those coming on June 1st you can get the book a day early and have me sign it.

The morning writing session went great, but the afternoon session not so much. My head went very ugly. So ugly, that I knew I was no longer able to see the writing clearly. I’ve learned that when one of those dark moods descends you just throw in the towel for awhile. Sometimes just a little bit of change and the mood lightens, but today’s mood had the taste of something long and bitter. I knew that just an ordinary break wouldn’t do it, so I hit the weight room. I was planning to lift weights today anyway.

I’d forgotten that I enjoyed lifting weights. Jon hates it. So the new deal is that I get to lift weights and he doesn’t have to. I find weights peaceful. You just have to concentrate on your movements, your own body, lifting the weight. It’s simple, mechanical, and it does not use the same part of my brain that the writing uses. Perfect.

But today, even weights couldn’t kill the bad mood. So added some crunches to begin the ab work I’d been promising myself. When the mood remained even after that, I finally turned to Carri and said, "I need to punch something." Among many useful talents, she has a background in martial arts, so she found me something she could hold, and I could hit, and not risk my hands; too much. There’s always a little risk to hitting something, but I needed something more physical than anything I’d done yet today, so, punching drills.  I hadn’t done any of them in years. Judo was the martial art that I stayed in longest, but funny how a horse stance is a horse stance, and those long ago years of Tae-Kwon-Do, karate, and aikido, had left me with some body memory.  My ankle keeps me from doing any foot work, but a shallow horse stance I could manage, and I did punching drills. I hit the target until the flat of my fists was red, and my hands began to hurt. Not just sting, but hurt. Carri had made me promise I’d call it if it actually hurt-hurt. She didn’t want me injuring my hands. That would so play hell with the typing speed. So, good to my word, I stopped in time. I’m typing just fine as I write this, but the drill felt good. I needed something physical to beat the mood into, or out of; it’s the kind of mood if you aren’t paying attention and if you are so inclined that you find a way to get into a fight, just so you can have it. I’ve never done that, but I do sympathize with the mood. I’ll have to get some gloves of some kind if I do it often, or wrap my hands, something to protect them.

I am going to have to go back to my doctor and have her look at my ankle again. I’ll wait until after SKIN TRADE comes out, but I may not be able to put the surgery off until next year, as I’d hoped. I’m in pain as I write this, and I’m having to fight not to limp by the end of day. There are days when it takes me five different types of shoes before I find one that doesn’t hurt the first few steps. Boots that I wore with impunity a few weeks ago, hurt. I can only wear flats for a day, then I have to do heels so it shortens the tendon, which is what they’ll do with surgery eventually. Shorten it, and reattach it properly. What I needed today was a run, or at least a jog, but my doctor tells me that even after surgery that won’t be happening. In an emergency I could run, but as a form of exercise, never again. Funny, I hated to run, but knowing it’s lost to me makes me miss it. I guess that’s part of the bad mood. Yeah, pain will eventually wear you down. It never occurred to me until this moment that I could be in enough pain to need something stronger than tylenol. Someday’s I’m just a little slow on putting the pieces together. Guess, I’ll be calling my doctor tomorrow and seeing when I can get in and see if I’ve done something new to the same ankle, or if the same problem has simply worsened.