10.21.13

Nice day back to work, though truncated by wicked reverse jet lag. Wrote a bit, ran out for lunch, wrote a bit more. My count was negative, simply because I was cleaning things up, but for all the head fog, at least there was forward progress.  Only a few hundred words, but progress.

Beginnings are hard for me. I can't get the right flavor, tone, word choice. I struggle with the first few chapters of every book, which is a silly thing to do, because I know I'm going to go back and change things once the story really gets going. It's the same every time: I prevaricate and procrastinate, only get a hundred words here, a hundred there. It's fear and resistance; there's an element of beginnings that scare me on such a deep, subconscious level that it can be paralyzing if I'm not careful. 

What am I afraid of? I'm not entirely sure. I'm not happy with the opening. I have three written, and I'm not sure which I will end up using. Which tells me I should just go on to the next scene, and worry about the perfect opening later.Tess Gerritsen once said she forgets how to write a book every time she starts a new one, and that's definitely what I'm feeling. Right now, I have 5,000 words, I know I need 100,000 more, and it's daunting as all get out.  I don't feel at all settled until I'm at the 20,000 mark. Which I hope to be very soon. 

I'm not going to go to bed just yet, though my body is screaming for sleep. Will have an early dinner, get to bed as early as I can, and start fresh in the morning. And I'll try to get some pics posted. 

Sweet dreams!

10.20.13

Forgive the incoherence, it's 1 in the morning Scotland time and I've been crunched up in a seat on Delta for the past 8 hours. But we are back in the USA, for which I am most grateful. As much as I love traveling, there is always something nice about going through customs and getting that cheery "Welcome Home!"

It's been a long day, and relatively uneventful. It's seems rather odd that 17 hours ago I was staring at a Scottish loch, and now I'm in Detroit, awaiting the last leg of our journey. There is a warm bed and a good night's sleep in my future, that's for sure.

Tomorrow I go back to work in earnest on YARD OF GRAVES. I've decided to do NanoWriMo this year, so as of November 1, I am a writing machine. I've done NaNo before - the first time was for my 2nd Taylor book, 14, and I've participated several times since. So for the next few weeks, it's back to boring old word counts and (hopefully) writing epiphanies. I'm ready to get back in the swing of things.

Anyone else doing NaNo this year??? Want to keep me honest?

Sweet dreams!

10.19.18

Oh, my chickens. So much to share. I ate haggis! Not only that, but I loved it. We had haggis balls at the Cuillin Hills hotel in Portree on Skye, and they were absolutely divine. And in strange events, our waiter was a dead ringer for the guy Catherine and I based Nicholas Drummond on. Totally unbelievable.

We drove almost all the way across Scotland today. We are about two hours from Edinburgh, and a very early morning, but there's a beautiful fireplace at my feet, and a finger of Laphroaig to hand, so it makes the travels creaks feel better. I'm sorry to leave, and I won't pretend otherwise. This country speaks to me at every turn. There are places in the world that are beautiful and fun to visit, and then there are the ones that touch your soul and beg you not to leave. The past two days, out in the countryside, watching the sea and the lochs, driving through the glens and moors, staring at the heather and grasses and bleak wonderfulness of it all, it reaches deep into my being and thrums a cord that I feel through my whole body. And all I can do is sigh, and promise to hurry back.

Chì mi a-rithist thu, à leannan. Slàinte!

10.18.11

Second to the last night, and we are firmly ensconced on a leather couch in front of a fire in a lovely hotel in Portree, Isle of Skye. This is a beautiful little town, nestled off the Minch, a fishing village surrounded by towering mountains. So glad we had a chance to come up here; it's simply gorgeous. And we hit the Talisker distillery today. Talisker is the very first Scotch I ever tasted that I liked. So it was awesome to see it firsthand. 

Happy and tired and full of salmon and wine, and it's time to snug down and read for a bit. I have been honored with the chance to read a manuscript for a very talented friend, and honestly, I'm cutting this short so if can get back into the story. It is fantastic, and when it gets published I will let you know so you can rush out and buy it.

As I was told this afternoon, slàinte!!  

10.17.13

Sunset in Inverness, another day gone. We're in the last parts of the trip now, only three nights left, so each sunset, while glorious, is met with sadness. Right now, DH and I are sitting in a lovely little bar off the Glenmoriston Hotel, on the River Ness. This is a popular walking spot, so I'm having a finger of Ardbeg whilst watching the couples and prams and dogs as the gloaming encroaches, turning the river slate and making the autumn leaves flash; orange and red and yellow and green as vibrant as any in the States. But they look different here, more intense, more colorful, just... more somehow. I think it's the green, the moss and evergreens, that make contrast of the rest so vivid.

Went to both Clava Cairns and Culloden today. From a Bronze Age burial ground to the last real war between the English and the Scots. Though I've seen both before, they never cease to take my breath away. I left a small remembrance at the Well of the Dead, and marched across the marshy moor, angry all over again at Prince Charles. What hubris drove him to sacrifice his men, and his country, at Drumossie Moor?

Sigh. We will never know. But I wear my tartan proudly, glad that my history is somewhat restored.

Slàinte!