Song of the day: “Que sera sera” by Doris Day…again. WTH? It’s a fun song and all, but seriously. Never thought I knew it well enough for actual singer, but there it was, all proper and complete. Ah well, guess the brain stores more than I ever give it credit for.
The day starts bright and early and I’m sore all over from yesterday’s somewhat enthusiastic exercise session. Hah. I don’t mind, all those aches and cramps tell me I did an excellent job with the routines. Once I’ve rolled out of bed, let loose the dogs and finish up with the morning rituals, I’m heading down the mountain as usual…feinting Trin Trin’s enthusiastic attacks with the tube and jumping aside in the nick of time when Knight II threatens to bowl me over: the idiot still hasn’t learned any manners regarding entrances.
Waking fully and coherently appears to be somewhat of a problem today…don’t ask me why, but for the majority of the wonderfully warm morning my eyes refuse to open properly. It takes three coffees, (black, no sugar and stiff…seriously, I’m getting worse) and a long debated decision as to which project we’re going to submerge into now that the edit is over and done with.
The lists get a thorough examination; the shorter sections of a variety of books get dismissed in regard to time playing a big part of the decision. Ten books with over 20.000 words get cut down to those over 30.000 leaving us with a wonderful number of five. This is when it comes down to seven stories. No simple romances for now, since it’ll limit the publishers to Silhouette and the likes. The Western, which is slightly ahead of the others with close to 40K, gets put aside as well; it’s too much work and a prequel to another book to boot.
This leaves four: “Gifted” a paranormal thriller; “Hunters” a romantic thriller; “Benefit of a Doubt” a police “the Fugitive” style story and “Calamity’s Luck” which is basically a romantic comedy.
All of them too close to my heart for me to make a choice, so at last we decide to flip the proverbial coin and settle on “Hunters”. Now, this means that for the next few weeks we’re going to have to edit the fifty or so pages I wrote for it…very sporadically…since I started with it in ’98, and then start adding scenes to it once the story has surfaced from the far recesses in my brain. Who ever knew I even had those, hah.
Honestly, I can hardly remember the beginning. Except for the broad strokes the main character, the basic plot, it’s all a blur. If anyone had told me ten years ago that there would be a time when I wouldn’t be able to remember every single detail of one of my manuscripts, I would have laughed and scoffed the idea, but there you have it. 102 stories later (finished ones, projects in the making and fun ideas that I wrote down for the heck of it), I am starting on a journey of discovery in a story that comes from my head. Talk about unraveling.
It is actually not half bad…the first five pages, that is…I can see that my style has improved over the years. I need less words to “say” something in a way that a reader can understand it, and yet my writing has become more detailed and accurate. It is a nice realization to have, really. It means that I have vastly improved on my skill and that the few spelling errors I made back then, because I was still learning the complexities of the English language, no longer happen. Ah, improvement is a wonderful thing to notice.
But anyways, during the course of the morning, we go through the prologue until six hours after waking up it is time for some activity. The continuous sitting during the “edit from hell” has made me itchy, so after tackling a third batch of laundry, I get out the cleaning supplies. Armed with those, I head outside to mount the narrow ledge running along the length of the veranda.
At first, my intention is to go through the pantry, but before I can do that, I need to attach a lock on the pantry door (on the inside) so the dogs won’t be able to follow me. I’ve just finished putting it up, when I realize that what with the construction we started with several months ago, the fence is now temporarily obstructing passage to the front of the house. Drat.
Well, at least the lock is in place.
Time to think of another way to get to the front of the veranda then, because I really want the glass clean.
For the past few weeks we have been unable to see whether it is sunny or cloudy outside, that is how dirty the windows are, so now, with this waiting period ahead of us, I am determined to do some of the very necessary chores all ‘round. The windows are part of that, just so we’ll be able to enjoy the view for a change.
It is not an easy task. The first problem that I encounter is that, through the side door, I can’t get on the ledge (it’s about twelve feet from the ground and I don’t particularly like heights) due to a thick pillar that obstructs the way. Next, I try the terrace door, of which one of the locks has rusted enough to require big brother’s strength for opening.
Then, when I’m finally on the ledge, comes the fun part. I’ve got two feet of ledge to stand on while tackling the dirty windows, and it is by no means pleasant. I manage in the end, however, and soon, with the help of the sibs, we have the inside clean as well. Green. The reed, fig tree and eucalypti are actually green there. Wow! We can see green through the glass. The thought alone still makes me marvel.
That done, and having treated the washing machine to a proper cleaning as well, I head outside to move rocks away from under the carport, (during the rock hauling days, it seems ages ago, all the big ones got dumped there) so the Defender will be able to fit there…right after we’ve removed sand and rock from the ground.
There are some massive stones to move, but I manage…even though muscles that have been immobile for several weeks (and are sore from yesterday’s workout) are screaming, “Nononononono!” and, “Don’t do that, no it’s too heavy” when they really aren’t…such whiners, muscles. Hah.
The dogs love this particular chore, of course. There is nothing they like better than get in the way while you’re hauling massive amounts of rock and need to navigate your way around, over and past the them. They seem to get a huge kick out of the fact that your back complains, and that they get nudged aside every time they’re in the way. Bunch of idiots.
Once the rocks are removed, and with big brother there to get the heaviest that really are too heavy, we shovel up the sand and then start to dismantle the lower part of the roof as well, because the front of the car won’t fit there either. The adjustment, consistent of raising the roof four inches, the Land Rover fits and we can head out for a fun little trip across bumpy country roads just as soon as we’ve caught our breaths.
This is actually the first time, since buying the vehicle that I get to drive it, so I’m possibly thrilled when it’s my turn to take the wheel at a particularly steep spot. The Rover doesn’t have a single problem with the rocky path and cheerily chugs on as if nothing is different from a straight blacktop road. I gotta admit that the engine sounds magnificent, and I’m actually a little disappointed when the impromptu trip comes to an end with the arrival home.
Once there, we go over the car some more, discussing what repairs should be done still, and then we’re heading inside for dinner and another short session behind the computer. The evening quickly comes to an end, leaving me more than ready to head on up to my cabin.
Once there, big brother and I spend some time discussing possible plots for “Hunters” while my dogs eat their meal. There are some nice, still somewhat loose ideas bubbling up, but other than that the night arrives and it is time to start working on the blog.
Yep, we’re slowly getting back to the basic routines, and that always feels wonderfully reassuring. I guess old age is starting to make me a creature of habit. Hah.
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