The Final Scene (plus cheesecake)

Hey luvs! I am quite busy this week and am currently drafting a stats sheet for all things Fly Away Home to be used at my book-debut party tomorrow night! We are having a Starbuck's-style coffee night and I'm making three cheesecakes and celebrating my debut as a professional author. It's going to be fun! Today, I'm making decorations (Wait till you see what I have planned for "Beyond the Sea") and cheesecakes and cleaning. Somewhere in there I want to finish Anon, Sir, Anon because I am so close to the end. Like...final scene close. We will see. Right now I'm madly scribbling stats and printing off Western Union telegrams and all sorts of jolly things. I will see you later!

Icing on my Cake

"You are the icing on my cake, you are the smile I can't replace,

You are, you are.

The way you smile, the way you laugh,

The way I can't help but catch your joy, your joy..."

//icing by charity vance//

Today I made 3096 words. Not as much as yesterday, but then again, I woke up early and my computer monitor would not work. For like...half an hour... I sat on the floor plugging and unplugging it and hoping it would work before I finally escaped to the downstairs and a very messy Dad's Office to write my dose. Also, it was some tough material (mystery endings and the like.) I picked up my contacts from Walmart (good heavens, that has been a heck of a mess) and they're still not quite right...but almost. They are wearable. Then my cousin Matthew, who is a photographer, took me to the Cultural Arts center where we shot some photos of my new pink trench-coat so I can do a review for eShakti on my other blog. Matthew is the guy with whom it always appears I'm flirting,. He's a cousin. We are close. I'm not always writing, darlings. That picture above pretty much encapsulates me. You have my permission to study it. Also, I have discovered that my spy-face (made up of laughter, sass, and my cousin staring at me with his camera) pretty much looks exactly like a winky emoticon:

;)

-And-

Likeness? I think so.

Also, I have rearranged the pages so that they are clickable. Thanks for all the input on the new design. I like making things comfy for my readership. Well, my eyes are tired from staring at my computer screen with these banged contacts, so I'm off. Cheers and may tomorrow be a productive day of writing as well!

Whistlecreig Fun

Well, it's two o'clock and I'm clocking in today with 4,096 new words in Anon, Sir, Anon. I am not exactly certain whether I will manage to get more in or not. This is already four times my usual daily dose and the plot is moving along at a rate that encourages me to think I will accomplish my goal. I got up early and managed to workout, have quiet time, and write over 2,000 words by shortly after 9 AM. Pretty good. We have some gardening work to do because the weather turned warm, so I may not try to fit any more words into the day and save my willingness to write for tomorrow.

Overview:

Highlights of my writing binge so far have been:

• Getting to the part in the story where the title makes an appearance.
• Re-installing Allen as Farnham's confidante-caretaker, loyal servant.
• Sending Vivi out in the company of two murder suspects; a complication which no one thought to disapprove of before it happened.
• Writing a fencing scene.
• Writing a scene involving toast. The little things.

I added 4,096 words which takes the total to 48,875 words, and likely to add at least another ten-thousand before things are finished to my approval.

I have consumed some chocolate (Ghirardelli Seas-Salt Seranade) so far, and not enough real food. Also, I've drunk an entire quart of ice-water which doesn't seem like much till you realize how many times you need to get up to use the bathroom. Golly. I am still feeling game for the fight, so I suppose that is a good sign. Also, I got a magenta trench-coat today which will certainly make an appearance in a fashion post on my other blog. And magenta trench coats are always a happy happy thing. I put it right on over-top my jeans and t-shirt but I was so excited, I cared little whether I looked ridiculous or not. I love you, mail-man. I also got to spend some time perusing a list of fencing terms and trying to comprehend them so I could fit them together into a feasible fight sequence. I think I managed it rather well:

“That was bang neat of you,” Farnham said. “I didn’t know you could move so fast.”

As for the characters, I've reached a certain level of complexity of which I am rather proud. I've purposely kept all of them from being much like me at all, which means I get to fathom their depths (or try, anyway) and write what I see. It's a good exercise and I'm looking forward to seeing what's what in editing rounds. I should also say that I'm going to up my four-person beta-reading team to five people, because I realized I need a British Contact to correct all my Britishness in this book. Looking forward to sending the manuscript through her and getting her take and on this particular aspect of the story. I feel blessed to have been brought in contact with someone who lives roughly near the general area of England in which Whistlecreig is thought to lay! (More or less. Probably less, but it's nearer than if she lived in Yorkshire.)

In other news, I never did find the map I made, which bothers me. Where on God's green earth could it have gone? It disappeared. It is probably a very good map which someone stole, thinking it led to treasure. I will nod sagely over that possibility and try to forget that I actually will need to redraw one. And on that note, since I am intending to include a map in the front of the book upon publication, how much does it cost to get someone to do it for you? Well, Regency Buck and lunch (which I haven't had yet--it's 2:40 PM and I've only had scrambled eggs and chocolate all day) are calling my name, and I've still got to put the baby to bed so I'm off. Thanks to all you lovely people who have supported me in the March Madcapness so far! I look forward to updating you tomorrow!

His butler’s offer of service disarmed Farnham. That any man would voluntarily cross swords with a furious Heir of Whistlecreig showed a sort of fealty he must commend. With a low grumble that was neither denial, nor assent, he turned his backsword basket-first to Allen and chose another for himself.