Season of Headaches

Funny how a Large Company can ignore one for multiple years, but the instant one’s patience reaches an end and one starts asking, “Where do I send the invoice for my lost working time while dealing with this issue?”

…well, all of a sudden responses become very punctual indeed.

Especially after one highlights one’s hourly rate, as well as the fact that emails and messages are billed in quarter-hour increments and there are additional surcharges for repetition, not to mention aggravation.

Yes, I know this is tilting at windmills. Just call me quixotic.

There’s also been a rash of Reply Guys, mansplainers, Rando Calrissians, and Well Actuallys lately. I’m glad for Block Party on a daily basis anyway, but this just makes my appreciation hit new heights. Auto-muting randos is one of the great joys in life.

Fortunately, both projects currently taking the bulk of my writing time are growing organically. Hell’s Acre is climbing the trellis I had planned by leaps and bounds, acquiring muscle and nerve over bare bones. The protagonist is a bit cagey, of course–she didn’t want to tell me everything, suspecting (quite rightly) that I have plans of my own. But I have the benefit of patience.


As for Cold North, Sol and her shieldmaid just surprised me. Solveig clearly feels they’ll have no better chance to slip free of a very nasty fate, so she’s making her move. It won’t end the way she thinks it will, but it’ll be a lot of fun to watch, and honestly that’s the one thing keeping me going this morning.

Honestly, giggling behind my hand while thinking, “No, *character name*, this won’t end the way you think it will…” is one of the great joys in life. I wonder if the gods feel this way about us.

The dogs are patiently awaiting their walkies. I need to figure out how, exactly, a few things in either book will happen. My head’s a bit stuffy from the swiftly shifting barometric pressure–spring is the season of headaches, alas–and I can just tell any sunshine today will continue driving the inhabitants of this normally grey place quite mad indeed.

If I time it right, I might be able to run with some cloud cover. But I might as well put sunscreen on anyway; one never knows. I do have to think about the right way to do the next few scenes in Cold North, because an invisible hook for the rest of the story is hanging very close by and needs at least a few threads hung over it to get the entire thing to drape correctly. (60k+ in and we’re not quite halfway there…) And that kind of work is best done while moving, whether at an amble or a gallop.

I could do a whole post about the rhythm of walking or just plain moving jolting free plot points and the like, but that’s for another day. My coffee is still warm; I’d best finish it and move on.

Yet another day’s post: I hope that squirrel on the deck has decided to go elsewhere and stop tormenting Boxnoggin.

But I doubt it.

Over and out…