Wednesday, January 31, 2018
Sunday, January 28, 2018
fishing
I'm a bit burned out right now, writing-wise. They say that happens when you are coming up to the end and realize that you have to start from the beginning with a new set of eyes, a different mindset, and really sharp knife.
Saturday, January 27, 2018
home
So amazed at his skills.
The old steps at the front entrance were beyond decrepit. Nerve-wracking and treacherous. While I spent the day with Charlie, Colin made this happen. I love the smell of fresh-cut wood but I guess this will have to be stained or painted.
The little extra width on each step will be home to my shade loving houseplants when the weather comes to its senses.
Now what to do with the trashed out gardens on either side of the walkway. We sawed the evil holly bushes off at the root. One project at a time...
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
the habit wanes
because, this...(from last May)
It's very easy to let this habit of reporting slip away when nothing creatively shareable is going on. Writing is like that. Raw first drafts are hard enough to share with other writers in small groups. You are lucky if you can find crit partners who will be both straight with you
and instructive. I've recently been that lucky and have been giving most of my free time over to the first draft, which is morphing into its first major revision.
Stitchers, imagine, if you will, a piece you've labored on, mostly in secret (shades of Quilt National!) - an epic piece, say 8 feet by 22 feet - that's right, I said FEET, not inches. And so the powers that be have let you know that No Way will it ever see the light of day in that form and you have to make a triptych out of it. Somehow hacking it into hangable pieces.
At first, the rebel in me said, "Fuck you and your pony!" but after looking at this steaming pile of 222+k of words for a while, I think I've found a way to serve both the muse and the commercial masters, namely, publishers. Only time and a whole lot more writing and rewriting will tell.
Update. Nope. Can't chop it up. Last word count, 229,745. I'm looking for beta readers.
If you think you might be interested send an email. deborah*at*lacativa.com
It's very easy to let this habit of reporting slip away when nothing creatively shareable is going on. Writing is like that. Raw first drafts are hard enough to share with other writers in small groups. You are lucky if you can find crit partners who will be both straight with you
 |
| I've bored the cat. |
Stitchers, imagine, if you will, a piece you've labored on, mostly in secret (shades of Quilt National!) - an epic piece, say 8 feet by 22 feet - that's right, I said FEET, not inches. And so the powers that be have let you know that No Way will it ever see the light of day in that form and you have to make a triptych out of it. Somehow hacking it into hangable pieces.
At first, the rebel in me said, "Fuck you and your pony!" but after looking at this steaming pile of 222+k of words for a while, I think I've found a way to serve both the muse and the commercial masters, namely, publishers. Only time and a whole lot more writing and rewriting will tell.
Update. Nope. Can't chop it up. Last word count, 229,745. I'm looking for beta readers.
If you think you might be interested send an email. deborah*at*lacativa.com
Sunday, January 21, 2018
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