Whistling To Breakfast

Winter Tree In the middle of second-pass revisions for Wayfarer, the second Beauty & Madness. I finished this book during the nightmare of buying a house and having everything that could possibly go wrong…go wrong. It’s odd to read it now and remember how I was feeling when I wrote a particular scene, certain turns of phrase bringing back waves of uncomfortable feeling from that time.

Regular spring weather has returned, and the rain makes me happy. In the old house, you could hear every drop hitting the roof. In this one, it takes a reasonably heavy downpour to whisper inside, and I was curled up warm and safe in bed with Miss B and the Mad Tortie, who has taken to sleeping in my room lately. (Odd Trundles prefers his crate, and given his habit of emitting…certain smells…at night, it’s probably best.) It was by far the most content I’ve felt in a long while. The new cat–long story–can be coaxed upstairs during quiet times, but prefers the basement. Probably because that’s where the kibble and litterbox are located, and because Odd can’t negotiate the inside stairs. (Too topheavy, poor thing.) She would like very much to come upstairs, though, judging by her yowling at certain points. Eventually she’ll get lonely enough to creep upstairs at other times, and we will welcome her.

They took out a tree at the house behind us, so the crows have moved into my firs. They don’t quite taunt the dogs–for one thing, Miss B is pretty unflappable–but they do comment upon all sorts of things, all day. The old house had mourning doves that weighed in on every event, gossiping like bored elderly men, but the crows take a more direct approach, yelling about pretty much everything and keeping the entire neighborhood updated. Also, I caught Josephine!Squirrel building a nest the other day.

Yes, I’m looking at reclaiming my squirrel stories. And that’s all I’m saying about that at the moment.

Anyway, today is going to be gray and damp, thank goodness. Miss B needs a nice hard run to settle her nerves, and so do I. Then it’s time to dive back into the revisions and layer in more description. I can see everything I’m writing so clearly inside my head–a sort of total-body hallucination–that I often forget the reader can’t, and so an editor’s gentle reminders that they can’t see inside my skull are pretty priceless.

I suppose that’s all the news that’s fit to blog.

*wanders off whistling to breakfast*

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martian moon crab
martian moon crab

The sound of rain on the roof is the most comforting sound. The sound of larger birds hopping about on the roof is disconcerting. The crows on my street stay in the firs , the mourning doves along the roof and fence lines. Redwinged blackbirds are vocal feeders, the finches are intent on eating. Jays on the fence and feeders, the squirrels are opportunists who drop in to pillage the feeders and sit on the safety of nearby branches to criticise. The raptors… they are silent, drifting on the thermals. New kitty? Thats another story worth waiting for, and another… Read more »