Menagerie There

Road I’m back! Well, I wasn’t really gone, just sunk into revising. I’d thought this book was fairly clean and easy. GOD, WAS I WRONG. Still, I can take some comfort from it. If you look at something you wrote months or years ago and don’t cringe a little thinking of how you could pull it off better, you’re probably not growing as a writer. So I’m just gritting my teeth and repeating it’s better now, it’s better now, it’s better now.

When this revision is finished, I go straight into another revision for my “assassin and old girlfriend, PLUS VAMPIRES!” book. In between all that is wordcount on Cal & Trinity, and then, revisions on the second Gallow book. It feels like I’m just revising ad nauseum with no time for new words, an exotic and not quite comfortable sensation.

I also brought Shirley the penguin home from Cover to Cover. I’m responsible for most of the menagerie there–it got to the point where my writing partner threatened to strangle me if I brought any more animal statues in. Shirley is temporarily living in the dining room, which may be her forever home if she expresses no other preference.

Shirley

Also brought home: the rubber tree, a philodendron, and something I’m told is an aglaonema. Two of them came from the sunroom at the old house–remember, the one that got torn up during Neo’s Great Escape? It’s good to have the plants back, but I’m sorry the bookstore is closing. The end of an era, indeed.

It’s about time to get out the door and get my run in before I go back to the grindstone. I’m not quite sure when I’ll be able to take another breath. Oh, I almost forgot–there are cherry trees blooming.

In February.

They’re in some of the warmer micro-spots, but still. The honeysuckle on the north fence has greened up too, and the lilacs are awake. At this point I’m just hoping there won’t be a killing cold near the end of the month.

It makes me miss the plum tree at the old house–great clouds of pink blossom in spring, and every time it bloomed, I just knew everything was going to be all right. I’m going to have to find a different marker now–maybe the dogwood, maybe the birch, maybe the lilacs. Who knows?

Regardless, things are going to be all right. Even if the damn revisions are squeezing my brain into whey.

photo by: Moyan_Brenn