Owl bag and Superdog

This will be quick, since I'm late for work (as usual--just kidding, bosses, if you're reading this... uh... heh).

I told Adrienne I'd post pictures of my new owl tote that I made. This is a great tote. I used a couple of new techniques to sew it, and it's a very useful bag--assuming you can be vigilant about not tipping it over, because it's fairly shallow for how big it is.

Sadly, I can't find the digital camera, so the photos are going to have to wait.

In other news, Winston decided to play Superdog on the 4th of July. He took a flying leap off a 5 1/2 foot retaining wall and landed chin-first on a small cement curb around a planting bed. Needless to say, he was whisked off to the emergency vet, where he was determined to be fine. He still seems a little sore. He's on an anti-inflammatory. I haven't yet taken him back out to the yard to see if he's acquired a sensible fear of heights (or at least leaps). I guess I'll get to that before too long.

Other than that, I'm revising like a maniac (Project X) and enjoying So You Think You Can Dance. Now I can add "look for the digital camera" to the list.

Happy Thursday, all!

PS - Have you seen this video? It gave me the happies.

I'm going to finish this draft if I have to step on a hundred leprechauns to do it.

Somehow, the amount of words I'm writing hasn't decreased; it's just that the book keeps getting longer. I am long past (well, 5000 words past) my initial estimate of 60,000 words. I will probably finish up this draft in the neighborhood of 73k, and then by weeding out some subplots that died on the vine, I should be able to get things back to 70k before revising.

I'm sorry to be all missing and stuff, and thanks for all of the encouraging comments. Welcome especially to the new commenters, who have entered the fray right when I'm feeling least likely to win Miss Congeniality. I promise to be better soon.

In the meantime, I have had a lot of excitement in my life this week:

* I don't care who that governor's prostitute is, but somehow I know everything about her, including her name and, via some brilliant news headline, that she "left her apartment". Oh, thank you! Now my day can proceed.

* Winston likes celery. I slice off little moons and feed it to him, and the noise he makes while eating it is about the cutest thing you can imagine. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

* I submitted a complaint to Yahoo! News yesterday about a rather disturbing photo that was kind of shuffled in with a few of their news slideshows. In my complaint, I tried to have the attitude of, "Look, I'm a big girl, but this is inappropriate." I received a response today apologizing for any inconvenience the matter caused me. I find that really funny, for some reason.

Oh, and under "book news"...

* Bad Girls Don't Die probably has a cover! I've seen it and I looooooove it. Agent M has seen it and he looooooves it. The sales people at Hyperion have seen it, and they loooooove it. I'm not sure when I can share, but it's so pretty and ominous, not what I was expecting at all. (My expectations were limited by the scope of my design ability.) And it says my name!

I'm off to write. I just figured out a couple of obstacles that were sorely needed at this point in the story. I'm really looking forward to being done with this draft so I can move on to all of the wonderful alternative activities suggested to me in the comments of the last post.

Happy Friday!

A verdict! And wish me luck...

I owe many comment replies and blog visits and even some personal emails (Father V!), but I must beg for a reprieve as we are jetsetting out of town (well, American Eagle commuter jetsetting) to go skiing. Would-be crimemongers, don't bother, as the homestead will be well-stocked with family members throughout our absence.

I am a terrible skier, which should make for some exciting blog entries next week... hopefully not typed on a laptop from the traction bed at the hospital in Tahoe.

In other news, thank you so much for sharing your opinions, especially since you all told me what I wanted to hear in the first place. Is there any sweeter sound? I have decided that I will, in the very near future, combine the two blogs into one monstrous chronicle of my so-called creative life. Which is good because I have to brag about the AWESOME muff I made for my hands. Last March in New York, all I wanted was a pair of boots that would keep out the snow and a muff so I didn't have to keep taking off gloves and putting them back on. I'm so set on both counts, so I'd say this trip is off to a grand start!

Happy weekend, all!

k.

On the third, fourth, and fifth days of Christmas...

...my true love gave to me... one liar lying.

Yes, yes, so I failed.

I thought about picking up with "three French hens", but when I tried to look up the symbolism, my sources said, "This probably refers to a variety of hens from France." FAIL.

Let me instead pepper you with excuses. The dog show is in full dog-show swing, and just yesterday I sent off the next revision of TGLL to the Delightful Editor, who apologized, saying she will not have a chance to read it until the day after Christmas because she has something else due on Christmas Eve. I am shocked! I can't believe these poor editors are working in sweatshop conditions. I always thought that scene in "Elf" where the guy (a publisher) has to work on Christmas Eve was a sick joke. But no.

Poor, poor Delightful Editor. I think it's for the best. Supernatural thrillers don't generally add to one's sense of celebration, although maybe she will read it and enjoy the gift of Not Having to Do Any More Notes.

Let us all add this requests to our letters for Santa, please.

In spite of my failure as a blogger, as a human, I am having a pretty good week. I hope the same for all of you.

k.

Oh, dear.

It has been brought to my attention by a committee of concerned... uh... Robin that I have been a blogging slacker. And it's so true! The reason, of course, is that I finally stopped being a slacker in some other areas of my life, such as (1) going on cruises, (2) going to Ohio, (3) revising my manuscript, and (4) going to... (insert scary Halloween music) work.

Revisions are due at the end of this week, so until then, I'm up early to take care of that.

So I promise I will blog more soon! And I promise the fires haven't gotten us. We are actually quite far away from them, last time I checked, although we have friends in a few of the afflicted areas. None of them has lost any property or been injured or in danger or anything as of yesterday.

One of my uncles in Ohio was telling me about his long-ago trip to Los Angeles, where he was warned against mudslides, earthquakes, gangs, carjacking, smog, etc., and I laughed and said, "Oh, it's not so bad." I'm afraid I damaged my credibility the next day by spending so much time on the phone asking my friends if their houses were on fire.

Hope you are all well!

Writing Retreat, Part 2: Set Yourself Up to Succeed!!

That title is a lie.

I'm starting to think that maybe I'm not the person to be giving this advice.

Here's the thing:

My work schedule is something like "10 weeks on, 4 weeks off". That means I have an entire month of hiatus, and you can imagine how insanely productive that allows me to be, as far as fiction is concerned. In case you can't imagine, let me clear things up: on a scale of 1-10, 1 being "laser-powered sloth" and 10 being "really productive", I'm a -5.

I try. Oh, Lord, how I try. But the problem is, there is so much to do, to catch up on. Like quilting, and buying fabric. And walking my dog, and coming home to quilt, and then going to the store to buy fabric.

I have come to realize that I will do anything, as long as I think it's my idea. (Note to friends: feel free to use this to manipulate me into doing your bidding.) Writing while on hiatus is such an obvious use of my time that it's clear the universe has arranged my schedule with boundless productivity in mind. But Katie doesn't want the universe making plans for her. Katie wants to shape her own destiny.

So she quilts. She gets a little antsy, thinking of the writing she should be doing (why did I switch to third person? oh well, too late), and she frets a little and then naps with her dog.

And then, before I know it (yes, I am taking back control of the narrative), the four weeks are up and it's time to go back to work.

And that, my friends, is when I start writing again.

So, back on the subject of my weekend writing retreat, aside from the few hours of work I did yesterday, the only way it could really be considered a retreat is that I am retreating from my responsibilities as a writer. And you can't blame me, I have been very busy. I have been:

* Protecting my dog from Angus, the Staffordshire Bull Terrier who loves him... too much
* Making drinks for others (and maybe myself)
* Drinking things others have made for me
* Plotting a trip to Ireland
* Reading

It has been a lovely weekend, and I did get a little accomplished, but this was not the buckle-down and git-r-done session I had in mind. Instead, it has just been fun. So fun, in fact, that my husband wants to stay another night and drive back tomorrow morning.

But this is clearly impossible...

Because I need my mornings at home.

That's when I write.

A Successful Writing Retreat, Part 1

We have some dear friends with a vacation rental out in Palm Desert. My husband, desperate for a little R&R (because going to Sundance and skiing for three days is actually considered work in this industry), suggested that we rent the house for the weekend. That way we could enjoy the heated pool and the absence of our own domestic distractions, while giving Winston a chance to play in a grassy yard and me a chance to buckle down and write.

Totally.

So yeah, we're here, and I've hauled the PowerBook out of storage and synced up ye olde iDisk (it's a Mac thing, invaluable for people who use three different computers), so all my files are accessible, and I'm all set up right here at the dining room table, and, you know, here we go! *clap clap clap* Let's rock this thing out.

Except everyone knows you can't rent a house in the desert without waking up to a breakfast of potatoes covered in cheese and bacon.

And maybe a mimosa.

(Maybe two mimosas.)

Okay, two mimosas.

So, also, it's important to play with the dog and make sure he gets all the support he needs to adjust to this strange and terrifying environment (not to self: next time, leave dog at daycare). And there are other things I have to do, too, like watch the creepy public access show about the restaurants, including the Mexican AND Italian AND sushi place.

I'm also interested in showering (who isn't?) and wandering through the kitchen to grab a cold cheesy potato out of the pan, which I imagine I will be peer-pressured into washing at some point in the near future.

Our friends are coming and bringing their dog, which is cool, because I love to watch dogs play, only that's not why we're here, right?

We're HERE to... Everyone say it with me:

We're here to drink Malibu Rum and Kool-Aid.

NO! No, we are NOT here to drink Malibu Rum and Kool-Aid.

We're here to write, yeah?

Totally.

(The photo is Winston in Palm Springs right after getting neutered. Note artistic use of Cone, his greatest nemesis (besides Flashlight).)

Winston vs. Writing

I have to say,

*blog entry interrupted because puppy made noise - had to go check on puppy, try to lure him away from nap in crate, then give up and take pictures. blogging will resume once pictures have been imported to computer... maybe.*

So you see, that's the basic problem.