M is off to the next stage

My agent loved M and he's sending the book out to editors. I'm nervous and scared and excited, but it's been a great journey. Im pretty confident someone will buy it.

Managed to finish some sewing over the weekend and I've also started cleaning out closets and things for this spring's community yard sale. I'll be working on Stain's narrative starting either this weekend or the first of next week.

Let's finish chapter 1

Here's the final scene from Stain's chapter one, but that's probably all I can post, copyright issues and all that jazz. As always, it's subject to change if it ever sees print, and I'm reserving all rights. :)

Not much gruesomeness below the cut. :)

Stain, scene two

Since I'm pretty sure I'd snipped Stain's opening scene before, here's the next. It's a bit more violent. Hope 'yall like it. (scene below the cut)

It's out the door!

M left my emailbox this morning and is in the hands of my agent. I'm taking this weekend and all of next week off to sew, then I'm back to working on Stain of Corruption. I thought you'd all like to hear that. :) 

As a bonus, I'm including part of Stain's opening chapter below the cut. Please note there is ADULT CONTENT and this scene may be offensive to some readers. Just probably not mine. :)

The Joys of Getting Old

I had some weird bright flashes in my peripheral vision last weekend followed by a new and annoying 'floater'. Today (Thursday), I visited the eye doctor and learned that these are common symptoms as the fluid in the eye shrinks and detaches from the retina. This process usually happens without symptoms or fanfare, but, since I *have* flashes and floaters, there's a chance I might get a retinal tear.

Whee. As if I don't have enough excitement in my life.

So far, everything looks fine, it's all just normal aging (but with fireworks and streamers - ha ha), but I'm supposed to go back in two weeks and get checked again.  I'll keep y'all posted.

Fly away little birdie

Our daughter moved out this past Thursday to start her own life and we're so proud and happy for her. She has a job. She has roommates. And she's super excited and happy.

Her parents, however, are stuck cleaning up the aftermath that's scattered and piled in her old room, but that's okay. Nothing a few bins, trash bags, and the washing machine won't fix.

Good luck, Laura! We love you and don't forget to call home once in a while!

Cops? Why'd it have to be cops?!?

There are several scenes in Secret Project M where M has to talk to, deal with, and explain things to the police and detectives. I must admit that it's MUCH EASIER to write such conversations from the viewpoint of the questioners than the question-ee. This is a single POV book and, sometimes, it's proving tricky to get information and questions across to M and the readers without being overly blunt about it.

Semi-stalled again on Chapter 14, but I think I can get this one cleared out fairly quickly.

Now that February is over...

Let me just say that it sucked. Mightily. With great, heaving amounts of negative-displacement-pressure. 

Like an open airlock into space.

Well, maybe not *that* bad, but still. February sucked.

I don't know if it was the weather, too much caffeine, hormones, or the drastic revisions to M that I struggled to wrap my brain around, but I spent pretty much all of February in a pissy little funk. Sort of depressed. Kind of angry. Incredibly lazy. I watched too much reality TV - things like Worst Cooks in America and Next Great Baker. I napped. I grumbled. I played Spider Solitaire. And that was pretty much it.

I didn't really write anything other than going over and over and OVER M's Chapter !(@*$&@ 7. I didn't really sew anything other than what I had to sew for class - and last week, I didn't even do that. I ate crappy (which didn't help) and barely exercised (also didn't help) and generally just sat on my butt being a grouch.

Last week, though, as February started to wind down, my mood began to lift. A little. I sewed. A little. I wrote. A little. I cooked with vegetables a little. But I was still a grump.

This past weekend was my guild's annual quilting retreat where we quilters invade a lakeside conference site for a three-day weekend of sewing. My roomies were all friends (Deb, Vicki and Jennie) so that was good (other than the lingering terror of sharing living space with others), but I'd never gone before and I don't do well in new situations. I also don't handle crowds well, I'm just too introverted, and I knew there were going to be a lot of people.

Daily, as the retreat approached, I told Bill that I didn't think I was going to go. And he would inform me that I ought to, it was already paid for and, besides, what's the point of trying to make friends (something I'm not particularly good at) if I never go to things where said friends will be? (I think he was looking forward to getting my grumpy self out of the house for a few days, to be perfectly honest.)

I'd decided that I didn't want to inflict my pissiness on the quilt ladies so I gave myself a deadline. If I wasn't in a better mood by that Friday morning, I wasn't going to go. Period. I even warned a few people that I was grumpy and might not come, but everyone insisted that I should because what's the point of a bad mood if you can't share it and, besides, it gave them an excuse to pick on me. Seriously. That's what they said. Come. We'll pick on you. It'll be fun!

Quilters are crazy.

Anyway, on Wednesday, my friend Tanya called to ask if I'd crawled under a rock and died (I'm usually in her quilt shop every couple of days or so to hang out or work or cut fabric or something), so I whined to her on the phone about being cranky and anti-social. Then I went over to her shop and we sat and talked and I bawled a bit about nothing in particular, other than pretty much hating my mood (and my age and my weight and my book and y'all know the drill). And I felt a smidge better. Not much, but some.

Thursday came and my mood had another marginal improvement. Then, me being me, I just had to put my lower back out. Well, actually my gluteus medius & multifidus, er, the upper/side part of my butt and upward. Lemme tell you, pain is not a mood lifter, and I hadn't even done anything! Came downstairs, walked across the living room and whammo! Tambo broke her butt.

Chiropractor helped some, and, at Bill's insistence urging - and armed with ointment and ibuprofen - I went to the retreat. Sitting sucked. Walking sucked. And most everyone felt sorry for me. But everyone was super nice. I hurt, and didn't sleep very well. Saturday I signed up for a massage - had only endured one before and it was, well, meh - but the woman had been fussing a bit over me, she could see I was hurting (and, I swear, Deb, Betty, Bonnie and Janelle conspired against me, offering to loan me the money to pay for the massage and informing me I'd feel WONDERFUL afterwards) so I finally relented.

Never had a full-body deep tissue massage before and she worked on me for about an hour and twenty minutes. Hurt like hell, but afterwards I went and took a nap and SLEPT. After supper I got a lot of sewing done and even managed to finish that rotten Chapter 7. Sunday I felt worlds better (mood and back both) and, today - Monday - I have full movement, only a little ache when I sit too long, and even managed to exercise. Mood is pretty much awesome, too!

So, anyway, that's where I've been. Sitting around being a grouch butt until the quilting ladies talked me into getting massaged and maneuvered back into some semblance of normal.

Now that this long, rambling post is done, I'm off to write for the night's words, and, tomorrow, I'm meeting my writing group in Ames for fun, conversation, and critique. Woohoo!!