Reading and Journalling

I've gone back to an old habit: I am once again keeping a book journal. I have read 88 books this year - according to my carefully kept list. I've kept a list of all the books I've read since 2008. However, as I peruse those lists, I can't always remember all the books. I am like a greedy child who gobbles their sweets, and then sits around looking at everyone else, still enjoying theirs. I read too fast to remember!

Those of you who give me a hard time for not posting photos of things - I only have my Mac to take photos with, and you will see how lousy these photos look. Above is the journal I'm using. It doesn't have lined pages, but there are at least 300 blank pages in here! And the paper is like butter....

I put the name of the book & author at the top, then have a spot for "date began" "date finished" "rating" (I use a 5 star method). I try and jot enough of the plot to remember the book, and whatever character names I remember. Which is a sadly short list. I don't know why. As soon as I'm done, I seem to block that out. I guess I am not only a greedy reader, but a lazy one! And then of course, mah feels about the book. I have more feels about some books than others.

It's an interesting exercise. We'll see how long I keep it up this time!

First Day Worshipping The New Religion

So I am back in Regency land, editing away on my gothic romance. I loved the few chapter segments I edited today. I have that "good write" buzz going. All is well with the world.

Since I'm being so very stringent with myself and my new writing regime (90 minutes, no distractions, no internets until my work is done) I am giving myself a particular luxury. Jane Austen.

It's been a couple years since I've read her novels, having been running around the internet trying to "read my genre", finding new authors and figuring out just what the hell my genre is. I spent Sunday having a Jane-movie-athon, watching Miss Austen Regrets, which I far prefer to Becoming Jane. Also, Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightley and Matthew MacFadyen, and the 2007 production of Northanger Abbey. Being a gothic fan, it's like candy. And Mr. Tilney is fabulous. We need cravats and long coats to come back in fashion!

I decided it was time to re-read the novels in order of publication... I would prefer order they were written in, but everything I come across confuses publication with when they were written, or swears such-and-such was the first one when other say, no, that was PUBLISHED first... I can't muddle it out. I'll go with publication dates.

That means I begin with Elinor and Marianne. Each time I read it, I feel different about the sisters. We'll see what this read shakes out.

Cross My Heart and Hope To Write

Tomorrow, we get back to work, tightening the corset strings! I went pretty easy on myself this last week. I have GOT to limit the distractions. I keep petting the kitten that is the internet. I keep saying "I'm just gonna check Twitter for a sec" or "I'm just gonna do an 'amediting' tweet" and then, an hour later, I'm still there!

No distractions. Not even the radio. Nothing to get in the way of the voice. You know, the one you read with. The one you push in the closet when it tells you things like "No one else is going to write this story, you know." Or "Chuck Wendig says you have to finish your shit. I'm pretty sure that means editing your shit." Or "There is a lot of fat in cheese." Sometimes, I hate that voice. 

However, the damn thing is always right. No one else is going to edit or write my stories. And I can't write any more of them unless I finish (ie: edit) the ones that need editing. And clearly, I am not adult enough to have the keys to the internet. I've tried to limit myself a little, but a little limitation doesn't appear to be enough.

So says the voice.

Who Would You Invite To Dinner?

Greetings, Fearless Readers. I hope you are well. I bought several .99 and $3.82 Regency Romance novels tonight, and I do not feel one tiny iota of guilt over it.

At all.

My fiscal irresponsibility is not what this post is about. I can't remember where I found the above image, but it poses the question: If you could eat dinner with any 7 famous people (dead or alive) who would you choose and where would they sit? There are a lot of folks I would like to throw back the Diet Coke with and whose elbows I'd like on my metaphorical table. I decided to go with writers, though, for fear that Benjamin Franklin and Gloria Steinan would either run off together, or kill each other. 

Speaking of killing each other... you may note that I carefully set Charles Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell on the same side of the table with a person between them, so they were not required to look at one another and possibly get irritated, should one or the other slurp their soup or start critiquing the other's work.

The hard part is picking who sits next to you. Laura Ingalls Wilder is the writer who made me appreciate my own love of nature and the wild prairie I grew up in and around. I felt the Laura of the Little House books was a kindred spirit, as I also had a beautiful blond, blue-eyed sister in whose shadow I lingered. And I had a tendency to get myself into trouble. As for Jane Austen being to my right, who invites Jane Austen to a party and doesn't sit next to her? I put Elizabeth Gaskell where I felt we could see and talk to each other, even if she is a little far away.

I was torn about having to place Stephen King a seat away from me. However... could you imagine listening in on a Stephen King and Jane Austen  conversation? I imagine Joseph Sheridan LeFanu and Stephen would also have a lot to talk about. 

I have one empty seat. There are so many people who could sit there. Shakespeare, even though I am no scholar of his works. He might be offended at how little I know of his legacy. Wilkie Collins is another - you know I love teh gothic! Anne Radcliffe, even though I don't quite get the cavalier way she treated her career. Georgette Heyer! How did I forget her? Or Edith Wharton - my favorite! How could I forget Edith? Harper Lee? Virginia Woolf? See why I left that seat empty? gah!!!

What about you? Can you fill those seats?

A Post of Bloggery, If You Will

This will be a rambling post. I do not have a single thought to get across tonight. I am glad that I've been working regularly over the past 3 days. Each day I've got right to work and stayed off the internet until at least a couple of chapters are done. I came home tonight, completely knackered, took a nap, but still managed to get some editing done. So yay, work ethic!

I'm almost 40k into editing of my gothic romance. As so often before, I feel really good about it. The warm glow of accomplishment is making me go soft and mushy. And the doubts are just flittering at the edge of the warm glow. I'm trying to keep them from getting in the way of the happy times.

I hope I've got the right voice here. I love the sound of it, I just hope I don't sound foolish. I'm using what I hope is a very light Regency sound. I'm reading a ton of Georgette Heyer, who I love and got some Elizabeth Chater books on sale, who I have yet to read. Each Heyer novel just gets better and better. I hope Elizabeth Chater doesn't pale too much in comparison.

I think I've rambled before of my love of all things English: I am a confessed Anglophile. Whenever I pick up a novel by an English novelist that is based somewhere other than England (I'm lookin' at you, Mrs. Radcliffe) I feel like I've been cheated. Heyer is like English candy. Bath, Yorkshire, Hertfordshire, Brighton, and London itself each get their own stories. I've only read one where the characters take off to the continent, but only for part of the story. It's so funny to recognize the names of streets and fashionable areas. Many of which I know from the novels of Dickens, Austen, LeFanu, Wilkins and Gaskell. 

Grosvenor Square sounds way cooler than San Leandro Blvd. You can't blame me for sending my mind elsewhere.

Well That's Over!

This week, in short, sucked donkey balls. I did not have the fortitude of Tom Hiddleston; if you were following me around, you would not find me smiling in every picture. I'd be holding my head in my hands, or flipping off the camera.

Last Sunday night, I took a nap and slept on my stomach, which I never do. Not the nap, but the stomach part. When I woke up, I was squarshed against the wall, my jaw unhinged and my head in a funny position. Thus, two days of throbbing jaw pain. I wasn't able to sleep Sunday or Monday night. Then we had a weird shift in weather. Clouds blew in, the weather dipped a little, the apartment complex cut down a lot of the verge, and thus, as whatever I strained in my jaw healed, my sinuses exploded and I've been in an agony of headaches, rolling over the top of my head like an avalanche.

This has resulted in very little editing. Or pleasantries coming out of my mouth. And a lot of Advil being consumed.

I think my sinuses are finally chilling out, and I went eight hours without any medicine. Whoo hoo! Things are lookin' up. I'm going to try and get some editing done.

Road to Recovery

Coffee shouldn't be that surprised. I hardly slept at all.

It's been a really long time since I stayed up all night with a book. It started out with a very late night, reading Georgette Heyer's Quiet Gentleman. So good! I admit I saw part of the evil deeds that would unfold, but another aspect took me totally by surprise. However. I went to bed around 2 am, the book not finished, knowing I wanted to be productive today. Only to get up about two hours later with throbbing knee pain. Even after the Advil kicked in, I couldn't put it down, so it's probably fair to say Heyer owned the night.

My previous post was all about incorporating Avengers gifs into my blog and whining about how much I suuuck. Serious doubt spiral, from both story doubt and serious qualms about my ability to even write something readable. I like to think I'm kicking its ass, even as we speak, because I have already moved on to editing something else. I've got two chapters of my gothic romance edited. So there, doubt monster!

I've also decided I need to try and whine a little less on the internet. Believe me, when the spiral first began, I wanted to reach out to someone, something, to not go spinning down the toilet. I thought that wouldn't be cool. Restrain yourself. No one wants to hear about this. But then I got on the Twitter, and well, Twitter is not about self-control or restraint. It's the mallet to the knee of self-expression.

But then you did get that post with the Robert Downey, Jr. gif, didn't you? And we were all glad that happened.