First, I have discovered that Face Book is addictive. It's the nosiness in me. I feel compelled to check to see what everyone is doing. By the time I get done with it, my regular e-mail. my website e-mail, my loops, and My Space the morning has slipped away from me. Have to fix that as I have a deadline looming.
As for work on the book - IF HE'S WILD - that's churning along. Have about 7 chapters written. That's when I discovered I had become so involved in the psychic angles - Alethea, the heroine has visions, even has them when she touches things, and is staying with a cousin who sees ghosts and impending death - I had rather lagged on the sexual tension between her and the hero - Hartley. Bad me. So I must type in what I have written with the thought of sexual tension to the forefront of my pitiful brain and attempt to edit some more in. I did some editing on the paper but it might need more.
And - yes - I write all my stories out on paper first. I can't connect on the computer. It's an editing machine to me, a necessity as my editor requires typed copy and a disc. Also my handwriting is rather small and I have been told that it is a little hard to read. I find that writing it all out by hand keeps me more involved with my characters. In my opinion, the characters are the story and anything that keeps me in touch with them is good. Besides, it's hard to doodle on a computer. It's my rough draft, let's say. I just wish I was a faster typist. Have to leave a lot of time to type it in and edit. Oh, and reread it a lot as I am prone to using the wrong words, reversing phrases, and letters. When I went to school it was called being a little backwards. Never, when riding in the car with me, suddenly tell me to go right. I will go left. Had the R and L written on the insides of my shoes for an embarrassingly long time. TMI?
Had the hubby home for three days. That meant little writing work got done. He can retire soon and I am going to have to whip him into shape. No walking through the office to get to the deck, no asking me where the hammer is, no coming in just to chat, no meandering through just to stare out a window at another part of the yard, no interruptions at all. I will probably have to learn to shut the door to the office although that will annoy the cats. Who - by the way - have been trained not to get up on the desk or on the keyboard so why can't I get the hubby to grasp - no interruptions? He's an aero-engineer so he has to have a bigger brain than a cat. I have the dreaded feeling that I will have to get a set scheduale and the mere thought of that gives me a headache.
Anyhoo - hope to have a guest blogger soon - one on the pschic gifts of my heroine in IF HE'S SINFUL(Dec. 2009). She sees ghosts. This woman is a ghostbuster. Yes, I know there's a much more acceptable word for it but I like that one. Every time I say it I can see that stupid movie - and the giant Stay- Puff marshmallow man walking up the streets of NYC. Ha. Well, back to Hartley and Alethea and making them get hot.