My novel needs conflict. I’ve been reading through thousands of words of characters and places and smells, sights and sounds. But there isn’t quite enough “I’m so torn over this, this and this” that a page-turner requires.
I’m working on it.
While I was pedaling the puppies around at 5.30 this morning. It occurred to me that I’m probably more catering to the needs of my domestic creatures than a lot of humans. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Dog Whisperer. In fact, Henry nearly ate the leg off a stray cat the other day as I dove between them. Squirrels, cats and small furry things seem like a special treat to bring back home when you’re a Terrier.
Aside from needing some type of basic training for a happy life, dogs need heaps more than that. Like exercise, decent food, pats… that sort of stuff.
I’ve started to note some chapters for a dog book and lit up to when a sister scribe stopped in to share similar thoughts.
I bought and Accounting text book online and have started flipping pages. Considering that I work a lot with converting numbers into words, I figure anything to help me speak balance sheet is useful. So my brain is happy at the moment. We all know how I love 8,000 projects at once.
I think novel, dog book with a side of mathematics will keep me focussed for a few minutes.
Back to conflict.
I realize I gush about them frequently, but the puppies really are two uniquely special angels to caretake my existence.
A Writer mate of mine used to talk about how he really appreciated the gym because word nerds spend so much time hunched over pages and keys, it’s refreshing to bend the body in different ways and motivate yourself out of a workspace.
While I do enjoy my 30 minute gym romps during lunch, I have an entirely different dependency on the puppies. They’ve been here about a month now and have brightened life during moments and in ways where I am left praising the Universe for delivering two unconditionally loving piles of smiling fur who only want to play and dance.
Shout out to the puppies.
Themes in my novel are rising during my current project that weren’t there before. As I hoped whilst hustling my return, swimming in New York City every day swishes the most beautiful canvas of secrets and stories.
I’m going to keep on keeping on. I’ll be a bit closer to novel than I was today. And one day closer to releasing Poetry: Volume Three, which will conclude my first published trilogy of lyrical verse and syllable batterings.
The puppies and I have a new bike! I have been missing my red bicycle since migrating to New York City last September and the puppies have been longing for a good run.
You can imagine how overjoyed I was to come home from work Friday to the sight of a proud husband and two dancing puppies standing around the yellow bicycle that would heal the heartbreak of having to leave good old Red behind.
The past two days have been spent being pulled around Sunnyside by two appreciative puppies. We also had our own private Oktoberfest yesterday and spent a lot of time sleeping during the first coziest fall evenings when you start to remember what you love about blankets and the feeling of warm feet next to you at night. Reading books in bed… sipping warm drinks.
There has also been book happening. Words pool in piles of 500 and I’m being less critical and more practical. A pile of 70,000 is bound to turn into something. Every page that I create at this moment is adding an interesting link to chapters already penned. Sections are sticking to each other in new ways, characters are being killed and created.
At the moment all of this happening to the sound of jazz with two sleeping puppies by my side and a husband making goodies in the kitchen.
Sunnyside really was what I needed for a minute. Moving four miles out of midtown has been enough of a change to build a refreshed writing fortress and still close enough to see skyscrapers of publishers I’ll be pitching to in the not so distant future. I feel focussed… it’s nearly odd.
I was distracted for a bit…
My eyeballs nearly rolled out of my head yesterday when I realized that over ONE MILLION reads have occurred in FollowMeToNYC land. It was one of those moments when progress occurs. In this instance, I looked down at my lap full of puppy and exclaimed, “Jesus. I still can’t believe the puppies made the hike from Australia to New York City. Amazing.”
I’ve been “blogging” for a minute…
Considering how Facebook (along with its recent place on the US stock exchange) leaves me retching, I’m happy to have discovered a spot in Internet land where I can rant as I please and be in touch with fellow Earth dwellers who stop in to share views and ideas. I still hate the world “blog”… but I do adore our local land.
Don’t get me wrong, there are posts of Christmas past I’m not so sure about… but that’s what happens when you leave a daily record of what’s going on in your averagely extraordinary world.
I haven’t been thinking too much about this during the past 24 hours though. Instead, my brain sporadically barks, “ONE MILLION, BITCH! THAT IS SOME SHIZ!”
If my sister Rijn was here right now, she’d probably record those linguistics in one of her small, red leather notebooks.
In conclusion… one million reads. Damn. I am humbled. Thanks and kisses to everyone who visits (and, well, who doesn’t visit) these pages of my thoughts, feelings and life.
Perhaps one of these days some of the letters might just be inky between a hardcover binding.
Poor Henry has had a hell of a time settling into New York City. First, his sister whacked him in the eye. Now there’s something not good with his paw happening and to prevent him from licking it, he’s had to wear a lampshade on his head for the past three days.
I took it off of him today because he was walking better and I was hoping he had forgotten anything ever happened and moved on with playing ball and going on walks.
Much to my dismay he started licking like crazy. This makes puppy toes red and raw and prevents any sort of healing going down. No matter how many abrasion ointments you can think of.
Tomorrow I will book his third vet appointment in a month. Good thing the puppies are used to vets from having annual checkups. But sheesh. I will feel much better once Henry’s foot can dance back to normal.
Today is October 1 and to celebrate that I ate a caramel apple and drank a pumpkin beer. My windows and backdoor are open welcoming a wonderful autumn breeze that has the finest hairs on my arms standing to attention. There’s always
something uniquely comforting about autumn in New England to me, it was something I missed the most living in another hemisphere.
Welcome fall, when everything starts dying to make room for new life.