I updated the photo above with the view from my porch as I (pretend to) relax. The previous photo of my feetsies was taken at Caesar’s Palace in Vegas, when my brother and I went there last summer. Boy, was that a strange and loud and colorful and exciting and “it’s too too much of everything” trip–that’s where some man mistook me for a . . . um . . . Call Girl! er
. . . huhn, teehee
Wow. The evidence is shown in the pictures: I am a novelist. Definition of a novelist is “a person who writes novels” or “a writer of novels.” Come to think of it, the definition doesn’t read: “a person who writes novels and they are then published,” so those of you who have written or are writing novels and haven’t yet been published – what do you call yourself? And if you call yourself nothing, then why aren’t you calling yourself something? Writing takes discipline and work – the publishing part is a separate issue – so give yourself a break and call it like you work it.
Its too late to change the blog URL (as far as I know), however I did change the “Name” of my blog to Writing from my Mountain . . .
that’s certainly generic enough to encompass the whatevers of my writing and editing life.
Now, my friends, I have to glue my arse to the chair and become completely immersed in Virginia Kate. I have to have more time with this third Graces book than I did for the second Graces (Secret Graces) novel, for while writing SG there were family emergencies, illnesses of dear-ones, traveling to and fro, and my writing time was cut near-abouts in half! I made my deadline, but there are always worries the book suffers when you have to write your arse off in a smaller amount of time. This is how it is. This is what being a “novelist” means–sometimes stuff and life happens, but deadlines are deadlines. I understand this now, and, I am more inclined to give authors/novelists a break when I read their work.
I think there’s also a weird thing that happens with a trilogy, or a series. The first book is exciting and wonderful and full of golden; the third book in a trilogy takes things to some fruition, a silvery ending that wraps the new with the old and there is the poignancy of coming full circle. Alas and alack, that middle book in a “series” is somehow sort of wedged in there – feeling like a stepping stone between the two. I’ve seen this phenom with books and movies-the middle child is sometimes outshined or outshouted by the oldest and the youngest . . . oh dear.
So, my friends, social networking will slow, my connection to reality will be even more tenuous (laugh) and my poor GMR will surely feel neglected as I listen to Virginia Kate storytell through me as she storytells through Grandma Faith and all the rest.
|misty view on Kat’s porch at Killian Knob
This writing of a new book, the creating of a new work large or small, is the most wonderful, exciting, fabulous, terrifying, hardest, beautiful thing I do . . . the only thing more important and more beautiful and wonderful that I’ve ever “created” is my son and from that comes his family -Sarah and my “Lil Boop” Norah Kathryn.
Now you all tell me: What are you up to with this winding down of summer? What projects or activities will fall bring?
|Lil Norah Kathryn in the dress Granny Kat bought her