Sprouts, or An Author’s Eye View

Monday’s post on Tuesday, once again, which I am going to blame on Daylight Saving Time. I am not a spring or summer person, although I live with two of them (four, if I count the boys, aka our miniature roses, Lancaster and Tudor) so focusing on writing is always a good thing. I have switched the colored pencils in the beaker on my desk for some clicky ballpoint pens, the better to brainstorm (and click absently, in the process.) At some point in the marathon weekend, I cut down black and printed cardstock to make dividers for my writing planner, then cut down some super smooth dot grid paper, and added embellished paper clips for easy access (the debate of whether to purchase pre-made tabs that may not exactly match my aesthetic, or  to bite the bullet and purchase a tab punch (at which point I will become the type of person who buys tab punches, which should not surprise me, because I have been used as a pole in “how much do you love planners, on a scale of “hate it” to “Anna?””

Housemate suggested that, if I got the tab punch, then I could create planners (or dividers; she wasn’t clear) and sell them. On the one hand, that sounds fun, and, on the other, it sounds like a bunch of work. With a new book coming out, and more in the works, writing fiction has to be the first priority. I would say “especially at this time of year,” but it’s really at every time of year. Even so, there is a special emphasis that comes with the turn of the seasons.

Camp NaNo’s spring session is almost upon us, and I am still thinking about whether I want to participate. Playing with a new idea would be lots of fun, and, let’s be honest, I am going to do that anyway, whether or not I count the pages or even put any of it on the pages. That stuff is always going on in the back burner of my story brain. Always. There’s also the chance to use the time to buckle down and reclaim lost ground from Her Last First Kiss second drafting, but then there is the fact that April will also mean I will be on the other side of the as yet unwritten historical short story I will be submitting for Z Publishing’s upcoming anthology, unless I mine the story graveyard for that project, in which case I may be a smidge farther along than I think I am. I still have the first fifty pages of my Hogmanay story, that I wrote during last year’s Camp NaNo. Last year’s Camp NaNo coincided with Turbo Move 2018, so there are feelings involved with that anniversary. Right now, it’s in the “we will see” category.

Speaking of seeing, I have set myself an Instagram challenge. At the time I’m writing this post, I have eight hundred and two pictures posted. Most of those, I would bet, are of the late, great Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling. I always loved taking pictures of her, and look forward to taking more pictures of Future Kitty, when they join the family, which will be after the next move, which sometimes feels farther away than it probably is, but, right now, I get to pick another photographic focus. Pens and paper do photograph more easily than cats, in that they do not walk out of frame, or engage in personal grooming while that is not the desired pose, but, on the other hand, they are not as great for cuddling, or petting, and they have absolutely no response to laser pointers.

To get my instamojo back, I have set myself a goal; reach one thousand posts. This means under two hundred pictures still need to be taken. N asked me how long I expected that to take, and I don’t know. I have not yet crunched the numbers, but I look forward to the challenge of finding subjects for these photos. This should be interesting. Thee only time I will ever be comfortable being between cats is if I have a cat on my left side, and another cat on my right side. That, too, is a goal. When it happens, I will take a photo, and post it.

Until then, there are pictures to take, of other aspects of the writing life, of stationery and planner pages, computer screens and mugs of caffeinated beverages, of cover reveals and Scapple screencaps. There will be a new website coming, for Melva’s-and-my work, and more features here, as well. There is another journey to be had, as I get back to A Heart Most Errant, and send it out into the wide, wild world. John and Aline aren’t done with me, and I am not done with them, so I think this bodes well.

What sprouts are popping up in your lives this spring?

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