I finished the book a couple days ago and sent it on to my lovely betas. This week, I’ll be making corrections and additions, and then it will go to AJ for a final read-through. He always reads my manuscripts before publication; it wouldn’t feel “done” without his input.
So look for it in a couple or three weeks, hopefully by the end of May. Publication will be announced here and at the usual social media sites.
What’s up next? A story I started and then set aside when winter in St Paul made me lose interest. You may ask how weather can do that, but if you’ve ever lived through a long, cold winter (polar vortex, anyone?), you’d understand that it saps your energy and sometimes your will to live. Doing the simplest things is difficult.
Need to run down to the store for butter? First you bundle up: coat, hat, gloves, boots, scarf. Maybe a second pair of socks. Then you slip and slide down the stairs and along the sidewalk to the parking lot, where you scrape snow and ice off the car. If the plow has done a shitty job of it, you also have to shovel enough so you can get out without getting stuck. Everyone keeps a shovel in the trunk of their car if they live in such a climate. It sits next to the jumper cables you also own. You sit inside with the engine running until it warms up a little and the defroster clears the windows so you can see. This can take ten minutes or more, depending on external conditions.
Finally, you are ready for your “quick trip,” and you drive to the store on slick or snow-covered roads, gripping the steering wheel with tight fingers, hoping no idiots are sharing the road with you right now–you know, the ones with 4WD who think they can travel at normal speed and anyone going slower needs to be tail-gated–and you park at the store and trudge inside, trying to shield exposed flesh from a wind chill of -40.
The store is warm, so in moments, all that winter gear you put on starts making you sweat like a pig while you march to the back of the store for your butter (they never put it up front; they want you to see all the wonderful things you can buy while you pick up your basics) and you start to feel like you weigh three hundred pounds, but you dare not unbutton the coat or take off stuff because 1) you’ll lose something, and 2) you’re going back out into that deep freeze in a few minutes.
Butter in a bag, you gird your loins and leave the store. In those few minutes, the car has gotten cold, and if it’s snowing, you’ll have to brush it off before hitting the road.
The return journey is just as fraught with danger, and by the time you get home and strip off all the winter gear, you swear you’ll give up butter before doing that again any time soon.
That was winter in St Paul.
Winter in Florida: slip on a pair of flip-flops, get in the car, drive.
I was at R’s last night for Game of Thrones and the first episode of Penny Dreadful. Not sure yet what I think of the latter, but it started with a bloody bang. I left after eleven. I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I drove home with the windows down.
Oh yes, I am loving living here. I really am!