Swamped by books
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| Miss Buttercup from 2017; she is definitely the basis for North the dog. |
Oh my my, I am up to my neck in novels! And while that's a marvelous sensation, it's also a little.... Too wonderful? Maybe. Perhaps it's like being inundated with chocolate; all things, even the great ones, in moderation. But when the muse is whirling, it's hard to put on the brakes.
Yet, I am trying to maintain a semblance of patience. We loaded wood into the garage this afternoon, my hubby and I, cool weather upon us. Dishes required my attention, ahem, not sure what awaits this evening; there is always hand-sewing or some crocheting. I've enjoyed myself by making some cowls, although most of them are just a wee bit large, but will do the job, keeping my neck cozy. Crocheting is truly an indulgent pastime; no needles to thread, just pulling from a skein of yarn, proffering my simple double-crochet stitch enough thread to keep my hook busy. One of my grandmothers knitted, the other crocheted, but I learned from my mother-in-law, who taught me right before I had my first child. I make blankets, scarves, and cowls. Nothing fancy, but certainly useful.
My books could be deemed a similar thrill, well, useful for me to stay outta trouble, lol. Not fancy other than some clever plotting, so keen that I don't know/remember a secret shared between two characters, yikes! That's not from the novel I'm currently writing but one I'm revising, originally drafted in 2013. Hopefully what that illicit connection revealed will one day pop into my brain, but until then I'm editing with what I have, whittling down from the rough draft something relatively sleek and entertaining. I'd love to release it by the end of the year, we'll see how that goes.
I'll be over the moon to finish A Rose Blissful by 31 December as well, just a matter of writing every day, or almost daily. I managed 1,600 words this morning, will hopefully wrap up that chapter tomorrow. In this ever curious world, I thrive on routine, and writing does too. Here's a little sample from the new book, in which Mallory and her Aunt Wendy talk about North the dog. Enjoy!
An hour later the women collected green beans and cherry tomatoes in the garden. Mallory wasn’t surprised at how overrun by weeds were the plants, although she kept those thoughts to herself. Wendy half-heartedly had apologized for the usually tidy garden’s derelict condition, and after filling all their veg containers, they sat on a metal bench by the side of the expansive enclosure. “Maybe I’ll clear out some of this after lunch,” Mallory said, gesturing toward the ground by the tomato plants.
“Do all you like,” Wendy said, putting on her readers. “Looks fine to me.”
Mallory giggled. “Gonna ruin your sight doing that.”
“Who cares?” Wendy stood, facing the tree line, from where the sun shone brightly overhead.
Mallory kicked at the grass, which needed to be mowed. “Aunt Wendy, maybe tomorrow we can visit your vet.”
“Don’t get uppity Mal.”
“He hasn’t touched his food all day.”
“He ate like a pig last night.”
Mallory stood, joining where her aunt still gazed at the sky. “Travis said they use the same vet, said she’s….” Mallory paused, then sighed. “That she’s a very good doctor.”
“I heard what you really said about her, just so you know.”
“Well, why don’t you let me meet her, then I’ll retract my statement.”
Wendy laughed hard. “You won’t change your mind.” She faced Mallory, blinking her eyes, but still wearing her readers. “But what’s money when I can still holler steak fat?”
“You could get another dog,” Mallory offered. “Name that one Steak Fat.”
Wendy shook her head. “Oh Mally-Mal, I don’t think so.”
Mallory’s heart pounded. “It’s been ten years Aunt Wendy. You said Mom didn’t help pick him out. I miss her too but….”
Wendy grasped Mallory’s hand, squeezing hard. Then she released her, motioning to the vegetables. “Take those to the mudroom honey. I’m gonna split some wood.”
“Sure,” Mallory said as her aunt walked swiftly through the open garden gate.
