I’m anticipating a weekend that won’t feel like such a drag, one that won’t drain me of so much energy that I’m dying for it to be Monday again.
I slept well last night after turning in a bit early, which is rarity these days. But somehow my kids always get the memo that mommy is sleeping peacefully because those are the mornings they choose to wake up thirty minutes early and wedge themselves into our already too small bed. And there’s always a fight over the covers once they’re in there, then there’s the fight over who gets to lie next to mommy… I tell you, it makes me want to bolt out of bed right then and there.
I’m hoping the extra z’s I did manage last night will help me out with the late nighter I’m planning for tonight so that I can finish up Cling. I had given the date of October 1st to the editor, but I’m already double booked tomorrow between the two jobs and trying to clean house in preparation for a visit from my own mommy on Sunday, so I doubt I’ll be able to squeeze in much writing time.
And I suppose it wouldn’t be so awful to ask for another day or two as the hard deadline isn’t until the end of the year, but I’m trying hard to stick to my commitments, to set goals and follow through. I said October 1st and it will be October 1st. So, a Friday night/early Saturday morning of writing it will be.
So, I found myself floating around the bookstore this evening, trying to free my mind of all the mess that’s gathered there the past few days. As yet another year swiftly slips away, I find myself again faced with the question of what my goals truly are, what steps I have (and have not) taken to make them happen, and what steps I need to make in the future if I’m ever going to get there.
It was all just too much to think about right then so I bought two books off the discount table instead: From A Buick 8 by Stephen King for the husband and A Conversation with the Mann by John Ridley for me.
But still, the fact remains that it’s time for me to poop or get off the pot. I’m not really a list girl but I really think I do need to sit down and actually sketch out a plan. I need to acknowledge what it is I want and I need to face up to what I’ve been doing to keep myself from getting there.
Devon has posted some excellent questions here and I think they’ll come in handy for me.
But as far asimmediate accomplishements go, I did manage a meager 1231 typed words for Cling tonight and that will just have to do.
Or at least back to what’s safe and easy on the eyes. The more I looked at the other background, the more it began to take the form of a bottle of Pepto Bismol and the more sick to my stomach I became. So, I’ll think more on that and try a few other things before throwing it up here and abusing your eyes.
I’m still hand writing Cling. I hope to get to the PC tomorrow night to start typing it. It always amazes me how when I’m writing a short story, I think I’m getting off easy as far as detail and backstory are concerned but instead I find that I still have to do my homework, have to know what makes these characters tick in order to proceed with my story, even if the end result is only a 2500 word piece.
Right now I’m wrestling with the reason for the split between my main character and the lover she can’t seem to shake. The actual story takes place post break-up but the reason is important to the plot as the reader would wonder what was just so wrong with this guy that she had to just cut him out of her life. Of course the character herself eventually begins to wonder the same thing, but I don’t want the past issue to be so heavy that it takes away from the present conflict and I don’t want the issue to be something so tiny that it makes the character look shallow and nit picky. Instead, with the way that I’m going, my character may come off a bit foolish and gullible, but she reasons, no more foolish than we’ve all been at some point or another in some relationship. So, she’s allowed.
Maybe more later as I feel my head may soon fall forward and pound the keyboard.
I never got around to posting my overall thoughts on Something’s Gotta Give, not that they matter much but…
Well, the movie was so damned romantic I could hardly stand it. I’m mad that I didn’t push more to get the husband to take me to see it when it was in theaters. I’m mad that I never bothered to rent it and never bothered to catch it one of the prior gazillion times it’s been on HBO. At first I didn’t think Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton would be convincing as a romantic couple but by the time they began discovering their mutual attraction, I was downright charmed.
I laughed out loud at Diane Keaton’s consecutive crying scenes, thinking of the many times I’ve felt like running around in a crying fit but of course I’m much too stubborn to do so. She played this so well.
So, I was satisfied. I only wish I hadn’t deleted it after watching. I would like to have watched it again, probably even as soon as today.
But in writing news, I’m making progress on Cling. It’s reached the point where I can finally see what I need to do to get it where it’s going. I’ve gotten down several handwritten pages and I do hope I’m not jinxing myself with all my optimism.
So, I’m playing with my blog template, thinking I need a change, a little nip and tuck or whatever. I’m trying to decide if this blush color is too distracting even though I do think it’s pretty. What do you think? Am I chasing you guys away? Blinding you?
I’m sitting here jealous of all the rain and beach scenes scattered throughout the movie Something’s Gotta Give, so it seems only right that in between glances at the television screen I sit here scribbling on my new story, Cling (formerly known as Bitter). It’s an erotic tale of addictive love with a little salt water taffy thrown in to make it interesting.
It’s been a trying day. Who knew I’d have the energy to write anything by the end of the day. But, here’s a little taste from the very rough draft:
Don’t let him touch you. You let him touch you and it’s over. He touches you and you’re right back where you started, your head in the clouds, him clinging to your skin like mist. You get out of here without him touching you, without him getting so close that his scent seeps into your pores and you’re good.
But before she knew it he had done it, had touched her shoulder. It was just for a second. It was just a little squeeze that meant nothing and everything all at once and she could no longer feel her legs beneath her…
So, like I said just a little taste and seeing how it’s only the rough draft, that snippet may not even make it into the finished story, but I guess I needed some sort of hard proof that I am indeed on my way.
I’m always happy to run across my name in new Google links such as the one I found today,mentioning me and my story, Bend, in Ashley Lister’s review of Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z:
Of course, it’s part of the PTP trademark that the content of their books portray sex as fun and wholesome. Alison Tyler’s stories are invariably sex-positive and her commitment to this ethos shows in every title that comes out of her Pretty Things Press.
That’s not to say that there aren’t some serious themes covered in this collection. Tenille Brown, with Bend, and Lisabet Sarai with Quiet Evening at Home, are just two of the writers who gracefully tackle the tricky topic of infidelity. The writing is strong in both cases the characters are credible, the description and responses are flawless and the sex-positive ethos is constantly there to keep the mood upbeat and entertaining.
I’m equally giddy whenever I receive my contributor’s copies and find that I’ve been mentioned in the foreword.
See, I’m not hard to please at all. Just read my stuff, say you like it and no one gets hurt.