We intended to stay there for only a handful of weeks, but due to a lot of things out of our control (and mostly in Fannie Mae’s lack-of-control) it took half of eternity to close on and move into our (fabulous) new house. But we did; one fine Saturday, while I was off playing with friends and bands (and bands who are friends) in Idaho, Geek Husband and Geek Brother-in-law moved everything into my new house. It was the perfect set-up: everything got moved in and I didn’t have to lift a finger.

But moving in and unpacking are two very different things, and I was left with the unpacking. Seriously, how did we acquire so much stuff? I thought I would never finish unpacking. But then, miraculously, I did. Kinda. There were still boxes to be unpacked in the soon-to-be-a-library bonus room (or FROG, for those in the know). But all the living areas were unpacked, organized, and livable.

Finally, things were settling down. Forget the herd of alpacas and two very large puppies we just added to our lives; never mind the new (fabulous, wonderful, amazing) editor job I just took at Month 9; ignore the fact that Geek Husband and I are positioning ourselves to launch a new business. Yes, all those things added more responsibility to my life and took away more of my time. But my house was finally in order so I was able to carve away time for writing – I thing I can’t seem to make myself do when I can see all that needs done around the house.

Hurray! It’d been way too long.

Then, this morning, this happened:

That wonderful black stuff all over the stairs, my intrepid readers, is glaze. More specifically it is the glaze I bought to finish of the old stereo cabinet I painted a fabulous shade of yellow just before we moved. It’s the glaze I have been looking for ever since we got into this house.

Baby Caveman found it before I did. And Baby Caveman has an obsession with trowing things down the stairs to watch them go boom. You do the math.

The good new is: we were planning on pulling the carpeting off the stair anyway. I want finished platforms with painted risers. And when we pull the stairway carpet, we’ll pull the carpet in the future library as well. Without carpeting in that room, we no longer have anything stopping us from constructing our built-in bookshelves and window seat. And while I’m at it, I better go ahead and paint all the surrounding walls, because I would hate to do so after finishing the stairs only to have a paint mishap while doing it.

Baby Caveman threw the canister of glaze that launched a total remodel.

Now I’m back to having a ton of things around the house pulling at my attention. And back to having said things fighting for my writing time. As I told the empty staircase, however, I wasn’t going to let it keep my completely from my writing. Because, let’s face it: when one starts talking to the stairs, it’s time for one to get to the computer and release the psychosis into a novel.

I started my rewrite of 99 Days of Laney McGuire last week, and I am determined to finish it (I considered joining Pam and Quita in their quest to have a new WIP – or in my case, a new version of an old WIP – completed by the end of May, but I also have some major edits for Month 9 this month, so that’s not a feasible goal). I find myself carving time out of the day whenever I can find it: between chores during Baby Caveman’s nap, in the wee hours of the morning before I have to trudge out to feed alpacas, late into the evening after even the cat’s stopped being annoying, in spare moments between tasks when making dinner . . .

Okay, that’s a lie. The cat’s never not annoying. But you get what I’m saying.

Life never really slows down. If anything, it gets busier and busier, despite the number of things you cross off your to-do list. There’s no waiting for it to calm down enough to write, because that day will never come. Search the time out, find it in the dark corners, and steal it away from lesser pursuits. That’s what I’m doing.

~I really, really love that I have the best husband ever. Last Thursday, Baby Caveman and I abandoned him to go to Twin Falls, Idaho for four days to party it up with my buddies.  While I was gone, instead of sulking cause we left him or playing video games or whatever, Geek Husband cleaned the house. The. Entire. House. And trust me, it wasn’t a small task. I’d been sick for two weeks before leaving so I pretty much left the place a disaster. And then it was all pretty and sparkly when I got home.

And then, to make him even more awesome, when I mentioned that I wanted to go again in two weeks because half my buddies were sick and couldn’t hang for long, he didn’t even hesitate before saying, “yeah, we’ll work something out.”

Seriously, best. husband. EVER.

~I love THIS. So, so, so ridiculously proud of these boys. I was sitting at their show this past weekend thinking of how proud I am of them and their success. They’ve been working a LONG time for this. They are an inspiration.

Then, I looked down a few rows and saw their mom and dad. And I thought to myself, if I am this proud after having been a fan and friend for fourteen years, I can’t even fathom how Val and Spence must feel seeing their boys reach their dreams. It’s amazing and overwhelming.

~I love that I FINISHED THE FIRST DRAFT OF MY WORK-IN-PROGRESS LAST NIGHT!!!!

I have to admit, I was beginning to think I’d lost it. It’d been so long since I’d finished anything that I was letting the doubt creep in and convince me that I just couldn’t do it anymore. Well, take that, doubt. Because I finished!

It’s short. Like, really short. But it’s my first contemporary, which tend to run shorter, and I am one of those writers who has a tendency to write short and then add on during edits. I already have quite the list of things to work on; there’s still a long road before its really done, but for now: I FINISHED. Time to celebrate.

I don’t have a title yet, but for now, its working title is The Particular Sadness of Squirrels. That’s the second working title. You might be more familiar with its first: So97.

Kinda Bugs…

~I ordered some books from Barnes & Noble a couple weeks ago. They got lost in transit. I am still waiting for B&N/UPS/USPS to figure things out and get them to me. It’s not like I don’t have things to read, but I’d still like them to get here.

~Fall is here and the nights are getting cold. Now don’t get me wrong, I actually LOVE fall. I’m just kinda bugged because, well, TOO SHORT SUMMER!

~My mama had to have her golden retriever put down this weekend. Lucky was such a big lover of a dog. It was time and he was ready to go, but it was still really sad.

2. You think I am antsy now? When we were growing up, my sister Brittney and I would have our bags packed and ready for the annual lake trip by this point. And we would pack WAY more than we could possibly need in the one week we would be there. So, for the last month before we would leave, Brittney and I would be stuck wearing the dregs of our wardrobes because we just HAD to be super-duper ready for the lake.

3. I am beginning to think Brittney and I should have tried harder to have lives when we were younger. I mean, the lake is great and all (who am I kidding? It is like the greatest thing ever!), but really? Packing a month early? Lame. I will be lucky to be done packing the night before we leave this year.

4. Okay, enough about the lake (’cause, yeah…I’m totally not as obsessed as I was when I used to pack so early, right?). What else? Today I had to go to the post office to mail off a couple of books. I was packing them up because, being the slacker that I am, I didn’t do it before I went. So there I am, standing at the long counter, addressing my envelopes. Now, this is one of those super long Post Office counters. You know–the ones that usually have 20 people next to them waiting their turn. Pretty much a REALLY long counter. But, this is Montana, so instead of 20 people waiting in line, there was one lady at the register and me–all alone–finishing things up at the counter. Then another woman walks in. She needs to put together a box to pack up, so she comes up to the counter as well (side note–I love that our post office is slow enough during the day that I can take my sweet time packaging things and nobody gets flustered)–and stands right next to me. I am talking almost on top of me. I could hear her breathing as she put her box together, bumping into my arm every time she turned it over. Now, I am not one who has personal space issues and needs people to stay out of my bubble at all times, but seriously? There was like 20 feet of empty counter space. Was it really necessary for her to stand that close?

5. I bought a new swimsuit last weekend. I was lucky enough to find one pretty quick–mostly because I only had one stipulation and wasn’t picky beyond that point. But now I shall vent: I had to get a plus-sized top. Which isn’t a problem in and of itself. The plus-sized tops are actually quite cute, and it’s about time clothing companies started giving bigger women stylish clothes. But, I am not plus-sized. I wear a size 6 pant, and medium top. I know it doesn’t matter what the tag says, but here’s the problem: I had to find a plus-sized swim top because the regular sizes aren’t big enough for my boobs (unless I want to look like Pamela Anderson, with a strip of fabric covering almost nothing, and flesh–er, silicone–spilling out the sides. No, thank you). But, the plus-sized top, while it fits my chest, is loose around my stomach. Last I checked, swimsuits were fitted, not baggy. Oh well, it is still cute, and really, really comfortable. And it is easily the most supportive swim top I have ever worn, so that says something. Mostly I am just frustrated that swimsuit designers think that in order to have a big chest, one has to be a big person (or, I guess, that if a smaller person has a big chest, it is automatically fake and therefore does not need silly things like support or coverage). Grrr. That is all.

1. Seeley Lake, Montana

A picture can’t really do Seeley Lake justice. It is beautiful, yes, but there is so much more than what a camera can capture. The sounds, the smells, the bloody 4:00 winds: all of it comes together to make Seeley Lake the most wonderful place ever.

2. Wilmington, NC

It has been entirely too long since I have been to Wilmington, but I still count it as a favorite. I love pretty much everything about this city – the culture (the food!) the sights (Cape Fear River, ICW, Atlantic Ocean!) the weather (warm and HUMID!!!) – I just love it all and can’t wait to go back again.

But…so far there is no beachiness in So97. So I sat down this morning and took about 15 minutes to pound out a scene specifically for this. It uses the characters from So97 and at some point might make it into the actual manuscript (I am sure some seriously edited variation of it will), but for now it is just a free-standing scene.

Enjoy!

“We’re almost there.” Weston looked over his shoulder at me, his grin like a little kid’s. I had never seen him like this before; normally he was all business and propriety.

I stepped over another log – probably the 5th in as many minutes – and checked my watch: 11:15. “Um, where is there exactly? We have a ride in half an hour and we still need to saddle up.”

Weston laughed. Really? Mister We-have-to-make-this-place-more-professional laughed at me wanting to be on time? I will never understand some people. He hopped onto another log, nestled between two bushes, and turned to face me.

“Relax, Sam. The Worthingtons cancelled. We are free for the afternoon. Thus,” he held his hand out to me, “a picnic. I found this little place when I was surveying the grounds last week and thought it would be perfect.”

I took his hand and followed him over the log. Past the bushes, it was like entering a different world; in one stride, we put the forest behind us.

The sun glinted off the water, making each ripple glitter. The beach itself was only about twenty feet wide and completely surrounded by bushes, but the sand was pure and golden, like it had been untouched. I looked around, but from the beach I see no boats, no cabins, nobody. It’s like we’re completely alone in the world.

My gaze followed Weston as he crossed the beach and sat on a sun-bleached log. Wait. I recognized that log. I looked around again, and it slowly came back to me.

“Dead-Fish Beach.”

“What?” I looked at Weston, who was looking at me like I was crazy.

“Dead-Fish Beach,” I repeated, more loudly. “When we were little, we would all have competitions to see who could find the most fresh-water clams. One year, Rory and I sneaked off into the woods and found this place. We totally won – there were so many clams out there.”

Weston looked a little crestfallen. Was he trying to show me something new here? I realized then that it must be hard for him trying to fit in with a group of people who practically grew up here. It probably didn’t help that Rory and Karissa treated him like a total outsider. And, okay, so did I.

He cleared his throat. “So, um, why Dead-Fish Beach?” His smile looked forced. Did it really upset him that I had been here before?

“When we first found this place, there was a dead fish on it.”

“Creative.”

“Whatever. We were eight.”

He laughed, and suddenly he was back to normal. Maybe I had been imagining that he was upset. We sat together on the log and ate the lunch he brought – egg-salad sandwiches, chips, watermelon, and (I couldn’t help but notice) two fruit roll-ups for me.

When we finished, Weston gestured toward the water. “I’ve decided we can’t go back until you find me ten clams.”

“What?” He couldn’t be serious.

“Hey, you are the one who was bragging about how many clams are out there. Prove it.” His smile held a hint of a challenge.

“Okay, fine.” I kicked my shoes off and rolled my pant legs up to my knees. I loved wading in the water; if we didn’t have to work, this was a pretty good way to spend my time.

Seven clams later, the wind picked up. My hair blew around my face – why did I grow it long, again? – and stuck to my lip gloss. Seriously, I am talking half a head of hair stuck to my mouth here. And my hands totally covered with mud. After a few attempts of brushing the hair away with my shoulders, I admitted defeat and turned to Weston.

“A little help here?”

He was already taking his shoes off.

He waded out to me, and stood a little closer than necessary. Not that I minded. He swept my hair out of my face, but didn’t take his hand back. He locked eyes with me, that look of hunger I am so familiar with on his face, as he cupped my neck in his hand. His warmth radiated around me, and the old tingling sensation began in the pit of my stomach. I forgot how much I loved that feeling.

I took a step closer to him, letting our bodies touch just barely. The tingling left my stomach and traveled through my whole body; my skin buzzed with goose-bumps. Did he feel it too?

Weston lowered his head to mine. We stood there, forehead-to-forehead, for almost longer than I could stand. Each breath he took caressed my skin, and my body screamed for him. I lifted my head to finally take the kiss I needed so badly.

Our lips brushed slightly, and then it was over. Weston’s hand was no longer on my neck, I couldn’t feel him near me at all. I opened my eyes to see him backing away from me.

“Rory,” is all he said. He was stopping because of Rory? Sure, maybe there was something between Rory and I, but we definitely weren’t together. I was free to kiss anyone I wanted. I opened my mouth to tell West this – to tell him that I wanted to kiss him, but he motioned with his head to a spot behind me.

I turned around to see Rory coming around the bend in a canoe.

Now go read everyone else’s scenes! I am going to work on editing this beast.

What photos inspire your books?

Alright! These are in no particular order, and I am not sharing which book each on is an inspiration from. Pretty much, you just get to look at fun, pretty pictures. Some of these you have seen before….

This is a snippet of a scene from So97. This book is completely unlike anything I have ever done before and I am having a blast exploring it.  I am not sure where this story is going yet, since it is still really new and fresh, but here’s a little look for ya!

“Wait. You did what?” Karissa spun on her heel and pointed her comb in my face. She had been standing in front of the mirror, fixing her make-up and hair, for the last twenty minutes. Now she stared at me, her patented you-better-spill-now-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you look on her face.

“I – well, I invited West to go with us tonight.”

“West? West?! What, you already have a nickname for him?”

“Kris. He told me to call him that.”

“Whatever. Did you tell West that this outing is a ritual? A Karissa, Sam, and Rory ritual? A non-West ritual?”

I know I shouldn’t have argued with her. It is pointless to try to reason with Karissa once she gets on a roll. Still, I couldn’t help myself.

“Come on, it isn’t ritual. It’s just something we do. Besides, it’s never just the three of us. We always -”

“Oh my God! You totally want him! That’s why you are fighting so hard for this.” Now she had that I-am-so-onto-you look that makes her eyes all buggy.

“Why do you need that thing anyway?” I gestured to the comb in her hand, “your hair is only like an inch long.”

She jabbed the comb at me again. “Don’t try to change the subject here. You just want Weston to come because you want to hook up with him.”

“No, I invited him because I thought it would be nice. Just like it would be nice for you to step away from the mirror and help me out in here.”

Karissa crossed the room and looked over my shoulder at the cookie dough. She picked up a handful of chocolate chips and threw them into the bowl before returning to her place in front of the vanity. “There, I helped. Now, back to the subject.”

“Right. And that subject is?”

She stared at me. “We were talking about how badly you want Weston. You’re going to get laid tonight. I can see it in your eyes.”

I stood silent, stirring the chocolate chips into the cookie dough. Karissa was not completely unfounded with her accusation. In the past, she would have been absolutely right about the look on my face and the reason behind it. I used to sleep with a lot of guys, so what? I wasn’t like that anymore; I had changed. I had.

There you go. Be sure to check out the other entries!

Seriously, thanks so much for all the help yesterday. I appreciate all the comments and bits of advice I got, both on this blog and elsewhere. After a lot of talking/reading comments and emails, I have my ducks in a row concerning Incubus. So, in true Two For Tuesday style, I have a quick two-part follow-up to yesterday’s post.

1. Everyone I talked to agreed that it is probably best for me to put aside Incubus for a while. I am not getting anywhere with it, and the truth is that at this point I am probably doing more harm than good. The best comment I got was from my mom, who is like HolyCrapBusyAccountant and doesn’t have time to link out of her email to comment on the blog. (Though, she would probably just email me instead of commenting even if it wasn’t tax season, but I digress.)

Mom told me that Stephen King first tried to write Under The Dome twenty-five years ago, but wasn’t ready yet to tell the story. Now, I really really hope that it won’t take me twenty-five years (I mean, that is how old I am now…it better not take half my life to get this story out), but taking some time until I am ready to really write this book will not kill me (or the book, thankfully).

If it works for Uncle Stevie, it will work for me. Right? Right??

2. After deciding to let Incubus…er, incubate…I sat down last night and started work on something new. It’s been quite a while since I wrote blind, without any sort of outline, and I had a blast. I called it a night at 2,000 words–something I haven’t been able to do on Incubus in the last two weeks! (And not just no 2,000 word nights–I haven’t been able to put 2,000 total on Incubus in two weeks.) Needless to say, I am thrilled.

I don’t know where this new little project is heading, so I can’t tell you much about it yet. But here is what I do know:

• It is a summer book
• For now, I am calling it So97. No, I won’t tell you why…only Lilah knows.
• It has an awesome playlist!

I listen to music a lot when I write, but I have never created playlists for any of my previous books. This one is a bit different though. While it is in no way autobiographical, the places, emotions, and many of the characters are all influenced by a very specific time of my life. So, I created a playlist of songs that would take me back to that particular time.

Yes, these songs are really quite random, but they do their job well. Listening to this music takes me back to where I want to be in order to write this book. I remember the sights, the sounds, the smells–everything about one particular summer. The funny thing is: I am sure some of these songs were actually released after that summer, but they still remind me of it. Memory is a strange beast in that regard.

I guess it’s just like Wireman says: When it comes to memory, we all stack the deck.