Monday’s Blog on Monday and Video Blabber

Hi, all. Monday again, and, this week, I am determined to stick to my ideal blogging schedule of Monday, Wendesday and Friday. Hopefully more, but at least those three. It does get easier when one can outsource one day of blogging to one’s pet. Definitely worth the extra treats that added service will cost, at least that’s been my experience.

Since today is a lot of stuff in a little time on my to do list, I’m going to leave the bulk of today’s post as a video blog. If there’s something you’d like to see in video, drop me a line in the comments or at

Today, I’m focusing on starting as I mean to go on for the week, which means I need to put in some solid work on Her Last First Kiss (you’ll get a tidbit on that book’s hero in the video) and read over the latest chapter from my critique partner, who is making some awesome progress on her current ms.

I will probably give myself a break to go talk to some ducks in the park later, but work comes first.

Thanks to those who asked about From Fan Fiction to Fantastic Fiction recently. Things are in the works there, so stay tuned. I really appreciate the interest, and if you can write fan fiction, you can totally write original fiction, though it is more than merely filing off serial numbers. You know you’re up for it, though, right? I believe in you.

Okay, I am in full on babble mode now, so will turn you over to the video portion of our show.

See you Wednesday, Liebchens.

Electronic Ragnarok

The robot uprising has begun, at least in my house. It started some months back, with the old printer stubbornly insisting it had a paper jam, though taking the back off and inspecting the are in question reveals that it absolutely does not. Barring some miniscule scrap stuck deep in the gears, we’re stumped. Still, the darned thing insists it’s jammed, and more puzzlingly, Will Not Turn Off, so yanking the plug is the only solution. There is a lovely new printer standing by, which is not compatible with the extant coputers, but a solution to that is on the way in the near future, so we manage.

There is, of course, a sizeable graveyard of headphones and earbuds who gave their lives for good cause, and the debate over “let’s buy a bunch of the inexpensive ones so we have new ones when the old ones die” versus “if we spend the same amount of money on one pair of good ones, they won’t die all the time and won’t need to be replaced” can go on long enough that one party may consider reading the entire text of the Outlander saga merely to keep the filibuster going long enough for another party to consult pricing information to bolster the argument. My mp3 player is not, after all, compatible wiht my music streatming system of choice, and my laptop has decided that it and audiobooks are no longer on speaking terms. Neccessary losses, those, and while some, particularly the purple earbuds with the skulls on them, are missed, we know these things are going to happen.

I don’t remember how long ago it was that Real Life Romance Hero’s ancient desktop finally gave up the ghost, but it wasn’t pretty. We slid in the lovely silver laptop a friend had passed on to us shortly before our move. Of a slightly earlier vintage than the laptops Housemate and I use (those two being identical twins) that machine served him well, until last week, when, by his reports, it took thirty minutes to accomplish what the other computers could accomplish in two. This is not what we want. Set that machine aside, confer with Housemate to create a tmeshare arrangement on her computer, and then…

Then the power cord on her computer stops working. When I say stops working, I mean that even though we can darned well see it plugged in, the footer on the screen says the laptop is not plugged in to any power source and helpfully informs us how much battery power is left.

This, too, we can solve with some creativity. Since Housemate’s computer and mine are identical twins, let’s swap out the cord and see if that works. Success. Enter a couple of days of swapping one cord bewteen two computers used among three users. Takes some doing, but with scheduling and compromise, it works, until the next plot twist, which is that cord going from “the cord that works” to “the cord that usually works.”  A household where Real LIfe Romance Hero is deprived of YouTube, Housemate is cut off from  hidden object games is not a happy one, and, being a writer, computer access is kind of a big deal for me.

So, solutions become a priority. Housemate ordered replacement cords, plural, online, and a new-to-us desktop will make its way in our general direction, after a hiccup of its own, so relief is on the way. Housemate and I will head out later today (after tea, oh so much tea) to see if we can find replacement cords and/or batteries in stock at Big Box Electronic Store, but since the  twin laptops are older models, hopes are not too high. We may bite the bullet and price tablets. Real Life Romance Hero has a cookie theory about his laptop that does not involve chocolate chips (though baking might be good therapy right about now) and will be taking his laptop in for a diagnostic, because fixing beats replacing in such situations if his theory holds true.

Worst comes to worst, we live within walking distance of two public libraries, so there’s backup, and new cords should be here on the first of the month. It’s a good thing I love notebooks. The revolutionaries are recruiting, though. The refrigerator has started making some ominous noises…


Monday’s entry on Wednesday, that’s not too bad. Last time this year I’ll be off schedule, I promise. Since today is New Year’s Eve, I am fairly certain I can keep that promise. As for the year ahead, well, that’s still an open -and unwritten- book. Actually, a few of them.

2014 was one of the interesting years, and I am not sorry to see it go. 2015 is full of opportunity. I intend to make the best of it. Not making resolutions this year. Goals, yes. Making those, and keeping track of things in notebooks and planners is definitely part of that.

Though 2014 had its surprises, one of the good ones was me falling in love with Paperblanks notebooks, via my 2014 planner. That’s the green one above, reproduced from a 19th century French silk textile design (I would so get the regular notebook in that design, but I’m picky about closures, and the closure on the pocket size makes no sesnse) It’s paired with my 2015 planner, in my new Paperblanks design crush, the silver filigree, aka “The Precious.”

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That’s the entire Precious family to date – planner is in onyx, aka Badass Precious because it’s the tough one. Baby Boy Precious is the blue one, and the first one to come  home; I knew right away that was to be the pocket notebook for the new historical, and started it as such. That is going to get a small adjustment as his sister (yes, some of my notebooks have genders) Baby Girl Precious was my Christmas gift to me. I wasn’t sure what to do with her at first, but getting the whole family together, it became clear; Baby Boy gets hero notes and Baby Girl gets heroine notes. Appropriate, because one of my goals (see, goals, not resolutions) is to know the hero and heroine of this book inside out so I do not flounder and we do not end up blinking at each other halfway through the book and wander off in our separate directions. That is so last year. Last several, actually, but moving right along…

The ultimate goal is to nab the desk sized version of Baby Boy, aka Big Daddy Precious. If there is a Big Mama Precious, she is, of course, welcome. Still needed a desk sized notebook because writing in pocket sized all the time makes my hands cramp, so in the meantime, I am drafting this lovely notebook that was a birthday present from my lovely housemate:

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This book -oh heck, the working title is Her Last First Kiss– is not an inspirational romance (it’s historical) but when the right notebook calls out, I am going to use that notebook. Colors coordinate with Baby Boy (and someday Big Daddy) so the association is easy to make.

But those are notebooks, not planners, even if what they mostly contain right now is plans for the 2015 book. Whatever works, right? Right now, I want to write in these with fountain pens, to which I am fairly certain I can become addicted to in short order. Appropriate for a historical writer, I say. Microns will do if I find myself without a fountain pen, but first choice right now is the Pilot Varsity.

As for calendars, this one will be adorning my office wall for the next twelve months:

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I knew I had to have it as soon as I saw it on the rack at Barnes and Noble, as it fit oh so well with the notebooks below:

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Different manufacturers, but same feel, and my brain says they all smell like baby powder, even though they do not. That would be the images smell like baby powder, not the notebooks.

For those wondering if I ever managed to destink Skye’s notebook, I am letting the baking soda sit for one extra day to be extra extra sure, and then finding out.

aoon, we will know...

aoon, we will know…

What planners/notebooks are starting out your new year?


Typing With Wet Claws: Post Thanksgiving Edition

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday. Today’s picture is of me at the old house, because Anty’s camera batteries died yesterday right before Uncle asked Anty to take a picture of the Thanksgiving table. (That was because they died taking a picture of the snowy tree in front of our house, which Anty had a picture of already but it had a lot less snow on it and Mama wanted the really snowy picture. Mama did not know that would kill the batteries, so do not be mad at her.) I am sorry about that because there were a lot of food bowls on that table and a table full of food bowls is a beautiful thing.

Another beautiful thing is Anty’s new business cards. They came last week, and she is very happy with them. Here is one of them, used in the new notebook she is still altering.

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Could use a frame, don’t you think?

Anty had a new post at Heroes and Heartbreakers this week. In case you missed it, you can click the link below and read it now. Anty loves to get comments and talk to readers, so feel free to chime in. Her post was on the first part of Sleepy Hollow‘s fall finale. She says it is about ships, but I watched the whole episode and there were no boats of any kind. Must be a  human thing. You can read about it here; if you know where the ships come in please let me know.:

Sleepy Hollow: Ichabbie Heart to Heart: knowledge is power

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, which means there was a lot of food everywhere. I still got my regular cat food and Uncle gave me some extra treat, so my tummy was very happy. Anty was less happy when I tried to wrap my whole body around both of her feet while she was carrying one of the platters from kitchen to dining room, but who can blame me? There was warm birdy smell and I wanted to be near her. Isn’t that a sign of devotion? I know full well I do not get people food because people eat people food and kitties eat kitty food and I am a kitty, but it was the principle of the thing.

Our family did not go Black Friday shopping, but Anty did get to spend some time this morning chasing me around the apartment, asking to see what was in my mouth, and I did not want her to see that. In case you are wondering, it was shed fur. She did not seem happy to see me eat it, but if my shed fur is that important to her, she does not have to worry. She will see it again when I am done with it. She did succeed in picking me up twice in her efforts to get the fur away from me, but I still got it down and then she had to give me food to soothe my nerves from being picked up. I like to be close to my humans, but not be picked up.

Anty says dealing with cats is good practice for dealing with characters, since we both are supposedly subject to our writer humans but end up doing our own thing anyway. I think she may be on to something there.

Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling

(the kitty, not the book.)

Typing With Wet Claws: A Few Skulls Couldn’t Hurt

Skye here, for another Feline Friday. It’s been an interesting week here. Though we are in New York, we did not get any of the big snow. We are several hours east of that, and while it is cold, all we have is sunshine and a few clouds. Anty has been at the glowy box a lot. She had two posts go live on Heroes and Heartbreakers:

A first look at Twice Tempted by Eileen Dreyer


Heart to Heart: The Walking Dead season 5, episode 6: Consumed by the Chemistry

I do not get to read books because I am a kitty (even though I am named after a book) so I do not know anything about the book she read, but I do get to watch The Walking Dead with my people. They seemed to really like this episode because it was Carol and Daryl and lots of things happened. I like the show because no kitties have been eaten or zombified. That is always the mark of a good show to me. Then again, I have never seen any kitties on that show, but that is my head canon.

So it begins...

So it begins…

Anty has begun the process of “fixing” my notebook alterations. The black and white book is the book that I peed on, but I have nothing to do with the brown book’s funny smell. That one is because Anty did not make sure her water bottle was fully closed before she put it in her purse. She did not check that until things became fragrant (personally, I think it smells fine the way it is, but humans are funny that way) and says this is the last ditch effort to de-stink both notebooks. She may take the paper out of the black and white book and have different paper put in, if only the paper is smelly, and that  seems to make her happy. So, with that in mind, did I really do such a naughty thing in altering the paper in this one? I don’t think so. Sometimes, it takes humans longer to grasp cat logic. Really, it’s not that difficult. If this paper is ruined, then Anty can use whatever paper she would like, and since ivory (or cream, like my undercoat) is easier on her eyes than stark white, this is actually a good move. I did what I had to do, and I did it out of love. Also a full bladder.

Listen here....

Listen here….

As part of Anty’s office reclamation, she has (finally) obtained earbuds for the old desktop computer. Anty really likes skulls, so these had to come home. Now if she will get rid of the speakers that came with us from the old house but have not worked in recent memory, that will get rid of some tangly wires and let me sit even closer to her while she is working. Not everybody knows this, but I can be a cat ninja when I want, and get reallyreallyclose without making a sound. Like on the humans’ feet close. It does not hurt that I am somewhat carpet-colored. Anty says I am allowed in the office, though I am not yet sure if I want to go in there. She has a lot of skulls. None of them are kitty skulls, though. Only human, and she says they are made out of things like plastic and rubber, not the actual remains of her enemies or anything like that. I don’t know; that would be an effective way of warding off interruptions. Warnings work, as a show of power and intent. Anty says a closed door does the same thing, but I think a couple of skulls on the door could not hurt.

Until next week, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)


NaNot Blather: The Way I Do It Is The Way I Do It

“You are not a mistake. You are not a problem to be solved. But you won’t discover this until you are willing to stop banging your head against the wall of shaming and caging and fearing yourself.”
~Geneen Roth

Yesterday, at about this time, I was all set to get my Monday post up on schedule. It’s probably still somewhere in my drafts folder, lurking under (no title) or something else equally obscure. I had pictures embedded, all good to go, feeling rather smug about staying on track with the “other” tasks of the day so I could buckle down and write, and then…because there is always an ‘and then,’ an email notice popped up; could I possibly write a post for  Heroes and Heartbreakers on the all-Caryl (Carol and Daryl shipping) episode of The Walking Dead that aired the night before? Well, yes, of course, I’d be glad to. Which meant the world’s fastest rewatch of the episode so I could verify some quotes and count scenes (which ended up being all of them.) Do the first draft blabber, which is basically throwing words at the page like I’m talking, which is fast and rambly, and then whittle it down to the suggested word count. (Fun bit of Anna Trivia here; word count is not a problem with nonfiction, but comes darned near close to paralysis in first drafts of fiction)  Anyway, the end result is here, for those curious to see what i can turn out in about ninety minutes.

View from my front door yesterday -gorgeous gray weather is like catnip for me.

View from my front door yesterday -gorgeous gray weather is like catnip for me.

Today’s quote is from Geneen Roth, and is a new addition to my quote file, but is among those that have had the most effect on my current writing adventure. I haven’t read Ms. Roth’s books, been to any of her events, and I’m not even sure where I found this quote in the first place, but it has stuck with me. Since the gist of the post I was going to write yesterday wandered off after getting that request for the Walking Dead post, I’ll go with this instead.

Picture of yesterday's lunch, which went perfectly with the day's weather.

Picture of yesterday’s lunch, which went perfectly with the day’s weather.

The big thing that tipped me away from NaNo this year was the word count, and realizing that I was not the problem, that I did not have to change myself to fit into a program, that meant something. I don’t know that I got that before now. Even so, it’s scary to let go of things I’ve thought should be my guidelines. I should aim for a word count. I should plot. I should pants. I should do character charts and GMC and I should make sure there are absolutely no adverbs and whatever else piles on in there, because shoulds tend to multiply.

One thing I’ve noticed in the should family -and I have no idea how this happens- is that I often find myself in proximity to people who say lovely things about my writing…but I should be writing in their preferred genres. I’ve kept a list: contemporary romance, SF/F, YA, inspriational romance, nonfiction, historical mystery, literary, erotica, children’s books, thrillers, suspense, humor, and (I am not making this up) standup comedy aimed specifically at people with IQs over 150. There was a time, and it went on for longer than what I would care to admit, when I would bash my head bloody against a brick wall, trying to force myself to fit into that should, when it was never, ever going to happen. I love big, sweeping, emotional historical romance, high on the angst with a big payoff in the end. So that’s where I’m concentrating my time and energy. There are other authors who do all of the above amazingly well and love doing it, so those genres will not mourn my loss.

Is it possible to write in a genre or style one doesn’t love? Well, sure, it’s possible, but is it advisable? For me, generally not. No matter how much an intended audience might like a story, if I don’t, I will begin to hate that story. Avoid it. Cross the street if I run into it in public, metaphorically speaking and pray we don’t make eye contact, because it’s going to be awkward. On the other hand, there are those stories, long buried in notebooks and printouts and floppy disks (oh yes, that long ago; some of them may be painted on cave walls with swamp mud) that whisper and beckon because they are not done with me yet.

I suppose that’s a big takeaway for this month’s experiment. Lock the shoulds in a closet and do what I do. I wrote before I got tangled in shoulds, didn’t I? Then I can do it again. I’m doing it now, and there is nothing at all wrong with that.

Random picture of Skye because my brain is fried.

Skye thinks she should get more treats.

Typing With Wet Claws: Domestic Tornado Edition

Cat selfie for the win

Cat selfie for the win

Hello, all, Skye here, with another Feline Friday. Anty really needs me to post for her today because this week has been full of domestic tornadoes. That is Anty’s term for things that happen at home that need her attention. She says those are private and I should not tell them here, but she does want me to remind everybody that the bed is usually made (that is Anty and Uncle’s room) and the trash is going out later. Things are a bit behind, but I am eating on schedule, so it is not that bad.

phase one; free writing

phase one; free writing

Anty had a suspicioin today was going to be another tornado day, so she started out with some Lapsang Souchong tea (she says it is like catnip for people who do not want to be sleepy, but I don’t entirely understand, because catnip does nothing for me. Some cats are like that. I will take her word on the tea.) in the Starbucks mug. If she is drinking out of the Starbucks mug, she is probably cranky and it is not a good idea to sit quietly next to her feet in case she moves unexpectedly. Do not ask me how I know that; I just do. Anyway, she had this tea at the kitchen counter, while free writing in a notebook she assembled from a Picadilly hardcover and the removable cover of another notebook whose insides she did not like. Free writing is writing down whatever is in her head. Then she plays with highlighters and sometimes draws faces. This usually decranks her at least some.

this counts as therapy

this counts as therapy

Sometimes, Anty needs to get out of the house when the tornadoes come through, and takes her glowy box to a coffee house or Panera. The choice of which often depends on things like wifi and refills. I am not sure what those things are, but if refills of tea are like refills of cat food, I understand that. I do not go with her, because I stay at home because I am a cat. She sometimes mentions finding a ‘Kitty Bjorn,” so she can carry me with her, but I do not think she is serious about that. Probably.

Some of Anty's current notebooks

Some of Anty’s current notebooks

Anty has these notebooks with her today. The pastel spiral bound one is by Abbington Park and takes the place of the notebook I improve…um, peed on. That is for notes on one story. The black book is a hardcover Picadilly, and is her all purpose notebook. That gets everything in it and she sorts or copies things later. The small notebook is the white pocket Moleskine, which seems to be working well so far. She likes the smooth paper, the size is convenient and she says the cover feels good in her hands.

That is about it for this week. Anty is fighting tornadoes and still managing to write, so we will call that good. Tornadoes eventually subside, so all will be well in time. I suggest hiding under the bed, but maybe that’s just me. Scritches help.

Uncle scrtiches are theraputic, too.

Uncle scrtiches are theraputic, too.

Very truly yours,
Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling

(the kitty, not the book)

NaNot Ramblings: This Should Have Been Monday’s Post (and new Moleskine)

Or Wednesday’s. This week kind of blends.

Domestic tornado -,more accurately more than one of them- touched down and I think it’s Thursday. Probably. Dunno. Hm. Monday, trash day, torndo day number one, tornado day number two, :counts on fingers: Thursday.

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There has been writing, done midst twists of tornadoes, and a momentous day in the life of any notebook aficionado occurred; I started a new Moleskine. Pocket sized, lined, white, acquired during the ridiculously discount period of the closing of what our family termed “the good” Barnes and Noble, which of course we descended upon like the starving hyenas we are during such events.

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Possibly due to thriftiness, and possibly due to masochism, I set myself a challenge when I saw that my current pocket notebook, an unlined (yep, found a way to use them) cahier was close to full; instead of buying new, I’d use the pocket sized books I already had and had not yet used. Hence this one. I’ve never used a lined hardcover pocket size before, so this is new, and I’d been wanting a white Moleskine since before there were white Moleskines.

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Pictures are dark and fuzzy because they were taken on the kitchen counter while I preheated the oven to bake cookies, and the fizzled out flourescent bulb in our lovely high celings is currently in a resting period, so my former bedside lamp, on the other end of the counter, is doing all that bulb’s work.

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Normally, I’m tending more toward gridded or blank pages these days, so of course my next book up had to be lined. Not as much of an adjustment as I’d first thought, so maybe I’m finally at an “everything’s good” phase when it comes to page formats. At least until I try dot grid. I have tried dot grid, on an oddly greyish off white sort of paper, and the color bothered me so much I had to stop using that book. Will try again with got grid Moleskine, but not for a while. I have a few more books to use first. Using my multicolored Bic Cristals at the moment on this one, with Sharpie pocket highlighters. No pictures yet of book-in-action, but that’s for another day.

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Yep, she’s so tired, she’s loopy. But at least she got a blog entry up. That has to count for something.

NaNot Ramblings: Story over words

Measuring your output against someone else’s output is a game with no winners at all.
Seanan McGuire

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I spent this past Saturday at my CRRWA meeting, learning about Twitter from the fabulous Rebecca Grace Allen. There was, of course, discussion of who’s doing NaNo and who isn’t. I did not personally take part in said discussion, since I’d been pounced by a scene for one of my current projects and wanted to get that down (in purple fountain pen, not pictured) before the actual presentation started. Some people did mention where they are in word count, but I don’t remember any of the numbers.

The quote at the top of this post comes from Seanan McGuire, and has been sitting in my quotes folder since this time last year. Last year, I was slogging through a historical romance someone else had asked me to write, and a story I wanted to want to write, one that hewed to the historical facts, including cool but little discussed historical fact. There were settings I should have loved, characters who, for the most part, should have fit the bill, but still felt like cardboard cutouts on popsicle sticks moving about a stage made from a secondhand produce crate from the grocery store. I had index cards and plot structure and dangit, everybody had to fall in line because this was NaNo, and I had to get words on the page.

That’s not what I’m doing this year. This year, I am letting the characters have their heads and trust that they are going to show me where we all need to go.It’s a different experience, and staying outside of the focus on word count is, so far, a very good thing for my process and output. I’m not visiting the NaNo forums this year (or at least I have not, yet) and when I do see the reports of those who announce they wrote however many thousands of words a day, or bemoan that they did not reach a word goal, it doesn’t affect me. Last year? Oh woe. 1667ish words per day – some days yes, some days no, and the no days meant without a doubt that I sucked, I was a failure, I would be moving my popsicle sticks around a grocery crate from now until doomsday, in endless circles, lapped by the ‘real’ writers who could set a word goal and meet it.

This year, I’m writing. My goal for the day is to get a scene written, or to the halfway point -that’s good, too- and outlined to the end of the scene. This lets me focus and live in the scene, crawl into the POV character’s skin, see what they see, feel what they feel. It’s what I did when I first fell in love with writing and didn’t know any better. It feels awesome. One of the projects I’m working on makes my heart slam against my ribs, beating its fists against the voices that insist I can’t do it. Those voices, I shut out. Mostly. Still learning. They sneak in once in a while. They always do. Still, head down, eyes on own paper, trusted CP on hand for blabbering to and talking me down from the ledges on which I occasionally find myself.

I don’t think I could do that and do NaNo this year. This year, it’s story over words. Get to the end, and if the story needs to be longer or shorter when I’m done, that’s what the second draft is for; this one is for getting the story out, and for getting to know Anna-the-novelist again. I’ve missed her. It’s good to see her back.

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Typing With Wet Claws: New Notebook and Cat Selfie Edition

Hello. Skye here, for another Feline Friday.

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It’s been a full week, so I need a moment to recharge in this sunbeam before I post. I hope that is okay. The sun has been in and out today. I am fond of sunbeams, but Anty prefers the clouds. Must be part of the artistic temperament. Or being human. Or being Anty’s kind of human. The less sun, the more energy. I don’t know how that works, but that is part of her. Suffice it to say there is a lot of writing going on, spread out over a few projects. One of which is taking pictures of me, because as you can see below, cat selfies are seldom successful. (Okay, taking pictures is not writing, but she helps me help her, so it all works out.)

Cat selfies seldom work

For those following the saga of the notebook, I am happy to report that Anty has decided to keep my alterations to her notebook, and keep it as is, at least for now. She says that is only because she has not yet been able to get baking soda and a really big Ziploc baggie, but I think she knows I perfected that book and she does not want to mess with it. You are welcome, Anty.
She did, however, start another one in its stead. I have not peed on that one yet, but then again, she has not left it on the floor overnight yet, either. I am somewhat surprised that Anty picked a notebook with such light colors (she really loves black) but she likes this photographer’s work and she says the look agrees with the look of the first notebook she has for this project, so that helps them connect in her mind. She also says photographs like the ones on this cover smell like baby powder. I think they smell like notebook, but we can agree to disagree.

Smells like notebook...

Smells like notebook…

Anty would also like me to remind everybody that she has a new post today on Heroes and Heartbreakers. You can read it here, and it looks like this:

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If you want to read all of Anty’s posts at Heroes and Heartbreakers, (and you should) you can. They are all listed here. Pretty handy, that. Or paw-y, in my case. Because I am a kitty.

Tomorrow, Anty is going to her Capitol Region RWA meeting, where she will learn how to better use Twitter. I wonder if they are going to say anything about author’s cats having Twitter accounts. Purr-sonally (Disclaimer: I do not actually purr, but Anty has been known to appreciate a good pun, so I thought I would try one. Did it work?) I think that could only help.

That's all for this week.

That’s all for this week.

Very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book.)