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I see that Darla has handled talking about the wonderful event at Misouri Center for the Book Festival. I’ll just say thanks to everyone that was there, and everyone who worked to make it happen. A special hey to Mark Tiedemann who if he hadn’t asked me as a friend, I would have passed. I had a bad experience once at a library talk years ago. It put me off them, almost permently, but Saturday went smoothly, so maybe libraries are safe once more. Thanks to our security Officer Jack for making sure of that.
I do have to say how amazed I am that people will drive, and fly from such distances, just to see me. I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet I would do that for. Nobody living anyway. If I start listing all the people who made such an effort to get to the signing, talk, reading, I’ll never get done, so back to business.
I tried listening to non Christmas music on Friday. Tori Amos’s new album, Scarlet’s Walk. Early in the book, this was the album, but I’m still not ready to leave Christmas land. I got no pages worth keeping on Friday. Saturday was all about getting ready for the talk and signing. We managed to sign the last book as the library was closing at 6:00. We got dinner with Jack and Darla, and went home to rescue the puppies. Pippin, the new puppy, had not messed his crate. The two pugs, who are all grown-up, had. Weird. So Saturaday was wonderful, but no time to write. This is one of the reasons I take so few offers to speak. I mean, if I don’t get the books written, nothing else really matters, right?
Which brings us to Sunday. We slept in as late as the dogs would allow, or could stand, then grabbed lunch with our friend Richard. (No, he has nothing to do with the Richard in the books. I didn’t even meet him until much later. And no, they look nothing alike.) By afternoon my plans to work and for us to catch a latish movie were a bust. I was taken ill. Funny, I felt fine earlier in the day. So Sunday was a complete bust where work was concerned. It just turned into a very unpleasant day.
That brings us to today, Monday. I’m not completely over whatever hit me Sunday. I mean up and moving, but just not quite feeling my best. But not feeling so badly that I can use it as an exscuse to avoid writing for the day. The problem as I mentioned in a blog entry earlier is that even a day away and the heat begins to fade out of my creative fire. I’ve now had three days away. The book just sits there and stares back at me. A cold book always seems sort of sullen, as if it won’t give up its secrets easily. You have to fight for it now. Before it was coming like water out of the proverbial cleft rock. Now, it’s time to dig into that rock, and hunt for the water that I know is in there. But it won’t come easy.
I am listening to the Carol of the Bells CD my husband, Jon, made me. It helps. Though frankly I may have to send him out to find thirty different versions of GOOD KING WENCESLAS to put on a CD next. Even Carol of the Bells is beginning to wear thin. Or maybe DING DONG MERRILY ON HIGH, or WE SAW THREE SHIPS A SAILING, something, anything. I’ll dig through the Christmas albums and see what I can find. I’ve even got a YANKEE candle burning in my office. The scent? Christmas Wreath, of course. At the rate I’m going I’ll be trying to stay in a Christmas state of mind through the acutal holiday and beyond. I hope not. I really hope not. Gotta go try and make pages.